CHAPTER SEVEN

By Sache8

As soon as Daja had departed that morning, supposedly leaving them to hide in an abandoned fletcher's shop in the Mire, Briar had wasted no time in relocating himself and Evvy to a much more secure location, just before the sun had crested in the east.

The hideaway he'd chosen was tucked in between the very foundations of the city itself, part of a small, secret network of such places, which the street people simply referred to as the Holes. The entrance to this particular Hole was underneath a vegetable seller's stall. Briar doubted the man had any idea his stall was an important landmark to the urchins, pickpockets, and even more unsavory denizens of Summersea's underworld.

There were a great many unspoken rules regarding the Holes, which everyone knew, and which nobody ever, ever broke. They were refuges for those on the run. They were not to be entered or existed in the daytime, and Briar had toed the line on that particular rule by entering this one so close to dawn.

If someone knew you were using a Hole to hide, he would not betray you, even if he wanted to, because he would betray the existence of the Holes. You were safe until you left. Briar had never told Sandry, Tris, or Daja about them. If such an action on his part were ever discovered, not only would his own head be served on a platter, but the girls' lives would be in very great danger too, especially Sandry's. It was strange, having a secret he could tell Evvy, but not Sandry.

The Hole was tight, uncomfortable and very dirty, but he had come here because he needed time to rest and time to think free of anxiety of being caught. Unfortunately, he and Evvy were now absolutely starving, which was a factor he had already berated himself for not thinking of, but they had no choice. They were stuck here until nightfall.

Evvy entertained herself for a while by playing finger games with a piece of string in her pocket. They meditated together, and Briar helped Evvy practice keeping a tight, contained control on her power, which was particularly useful in the present circumstances. They did not want to betray themselves inadvertently by catching the attention of every mage for blocks around with an uncontrolled burst of Evvy's power. Briar was proud of how she was progressing.

After awhile she fell asleep, and he had time to do his thinking. Of one thing he was certain. He was most assuredly not going to sit and hide while his friends tried to work out the tangle that had landed him here. The trouble was, he was not exactly sure how to go about contributing. Without a doubt, everyone in the city would know his face by the end of the day, if they hadn't before, so how was he to move about? And what exactly was he to do?

The day waned longer and longer, and his growing hunger made him progressively more cranky. By the time for the evening meal, he still had not come up with anything, and the frustration was eating at him.

Are you still safe? The sudden arrival of Daja's thoughts into his head made him jump, and he hit his head on the low ceiling of brick and earth above him. Biting his tongue to keep from swearing out loud, he rubbed his head and called back to her.

Safe, yes. Comfortable, no, he replied irritably.

Daja's feelings over the bond seemed bemused. I have a great deal to tell you.

He listened in fascination as she told him of her meeting with Penmic, her encounter with Haman, and the arrival of this Paloma girl at the Citadel. Obviously, she'd had a very busy day.

Paloma is resting right now, Daja continued. Even though we're all dying to know what she has to say, Sandry insisted that she get some food and some rest first. She's very out of sorts right now. Apparently, she put a lot of stock in this Master Haman of hers. Briar, do you think there's any way you could make it back to the Citadel tonight before she wakes up? I think you should be here. She insists she has proof that you're innocent.

A wild hope arose in his chest, but he tried to keep his cool. I can't come until after dark at least, he said. And I don't know if I should come at all. It's too dangerous for Sandry if I were to be caught hiding there.

Daja was silent for a moment, and she seemed to be considering his words. What will you do then? she finally asked.

I think… he began. I'm going to do some snooping in the harbor. You say you think the merchants are in cahoots with Haman? He laughed quietly to himself. Wonder what ol' Coppercurls would think of that, eh? Anyway, maybe I can learn something. I'm certainly less likely to be found there than close to the Citadel or back towards Winding Circle.

Very well. Be safe. You must let us know if you need help.

I will, he assured her. Then, hesitantly, he asked, How is Sandry doing?

As well as can be expected, Daja said soberly. It makes me angry that everyone expects her to be able to handle all this with no problems. They won't even give her space to grieve for the dead.

Briar clenched his fists involuntarily at his sides in anger. Send her my regards. I know she'll get through this just fine.

Daja seemed surprised. I will, of course, but… why don't you just tell her yourself?

He blushed slightly, glad that Daja could not see his face. How could he tell her that talking to Sandry these days made him feel awkward and clumsy, that it both terrified and exhilarated him? She has enough on her plate, he said offhandedly. I'll only bug her if I need to.

Well, okay, Daja replied uncertainly. I'll report back when I have more news.

Okay, goodbye.

When Briar opened his eyes, he found Evvy staring at him with a slight scowl on her face. To his relief, the light coming through the small crawlspace that served as their doorway was quickly waning, and he could hear the sounds of the vendors outside heading for home. Perhaps in another hour, they could risk leaving.

"Are you always going to be doing that?" Evvy asked him.

"Doing what?"

"Talking to people in your head."

He scruffed her hair playfully. "Yes," he said. "Sorry 'bout that. I'll try not to do it if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable, it makes me bored," she said, causing Briar to laugh.

"Well, it does have its uses," he told her. "Now listen, here's what we're going to do."

:-:-:

Sandry calmly sipped her after-dinner tea as she watched Pasco pace the floor around the small tea table.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, child," Rosethorn finally snapped at him. "Sit down and be still. What on earth is your problem?"

Pasco scowled at Rosethorn, but sat down in the seat next to her obediently.

"What is wrong, Pasco?" Sandry asked him more gently.

"Nothing," he answered sullenly.

"That's code for 'something I feel stupid about discussing and I want people to feel sorry for me'" Rosethorn said, with little sympathy in her voice. Her hands were furiously knitting a green piece of cloth with fine linen thread. Sandry had been surprised when Rosethorn had asked if she could borrow knitting supplies, but had lent them most willingly. She'd had no idea Rosethorn even knew how to knit, let alone enjoyed it. It seemed to be a rarely used form of stress relief for the older woman. "I have no time to indulge children in their useless self-pity," Rosethorn continued, not looking up from her work, "so spit it out."

Pasco glared at Rosethorn, crossing his arms and stiffening in his chair. When this action gained him no response, he finally seemed to concede. He sighed wearily and looked at Sandry. "Do you think…?" he began, hesitating. "I mean, I never actually met Mage Briar…"

Sandry tilted her head curiously, but gave him time to continue. "What I mean to say is," he finally managed to say, "will Briar be upset that I thought he was guilty?"

"Knowing him, he'll probably be more upset that you didn't take Sandry's word than he will your suspicions of him," Rosethorn said mildly. Pasco's eyes widened in alarm, and Sandry shot a quick glare in Rosethorn's direction. The plant mage suddenly seemed to realize that these words were not the most appropriate choice, because she dropped her knitting needles with a small laugh and looked kindly at Pasco. "I'm sorry, child, I didn't mean to alarm you. Trust me, Briar is the last person to harbor any resentment in such a case. He knows all too well that trust is a precious and fragile thing. Your reaction is perfectly understandable given the circumstances. If I had not ever known Briar in my life, I would doubtless have felt the same way."

"And I as well," Sandry reassured her student kindly. Pasco did not seem quite fully convinced, but he did seem calmer.

Presently, Lark entered the room with Daja in tow. "How is she doing?" Sandry asked, placing her teacup on the table and standing.

"She's still asleep, but I'd wager she'll wake soon. We should probably discuss how to keep her safe, Sandry. What if this Haman learns of her visit through the housekeeper? The dance academy doesn't even know where she is, what if they report to him?" Sandry's heart caught in her throat. These were things she hadn't even taken into consideration.

Pasco was on his feet in an instant. "I'll go tell Yazmin," he said helpfully. "If it's not too late. She'll know how to keep things quiet." Sandry nodded thankfully to him and he rushed out of the room as quickly as his nimble feet would carry him.

"As for Haman learning of her visit," Rosethorn added, "there's not really much to be done about that, should it happen. We still don't even know exactly why it was she was so upset over her experience there. Perhaps it is nothing to cause us any alarm."

"She cried for over an hour," Lark said, her large eyes wide with worry. "I couldn't do much for her. It's like someone took the very foundation of her world and crumbled it right under her feet."

"She will need our support," Sandry said. "And we will need to keep her presence as secret as possible." Fortunately, Lark and Daja had overseen her Paloma's welfare since her arrival, and very few of the servants knew she was here, and even they did not know who she was.

"I'm very interested in the possibility that this murder and the ill timing of this merchants' strike are not coincidental," Rosethorn noted.

"Briar is too," said Daja. "He said he's going to look into it."

Sandry stiffened and she whirled around to face Daja, her face angry. "No!" she cried out. "He needs to stay hidden, he can't be risking himself doing anything! You tell him I order him to stay quiet."

Daja seemed taken aback. She blinked a couple times. "Briar knows how to take care of himself, Sandry," she said gently. "What is with you two, anyway? All of a sudden it's like you don't want to talk to each other."

Sandry gulped awkwardly, and cast furtive glances at Lark and Rosethorn. Lark seemed preoccupied with Sandry's sudden outburst. Concern shone in her eyes, but Rosethorn was intent on her knitting, and a speculative look was on her face.

If Rosethorn suspected something, she did not say. Daja still seemed bewildered. "Talk to him," she urged, gently squeezing Sandry's shoulder. "He said to say he sends his regards. I don't know why he was being so formal, but you're going to both get over whatever hesitation this is. I mean, honestly, you're letting what everybody else thinks of him affect your relationship."

Sandry flushed and turned away. If only it were that simple. If only Daja understood the truth. But she nodded her head as if in agreement with her friend's assessment. "I'll talk to him," she agreed. "Later, after we hear what Paloma has to say."

:-:-:

The first order of business for Briar and Evvy was supper. They had slipped as quietly as possible out of their hiding place, and shared identical winces as their stiff, tired muscles stretched again to their full length. A few meat pies pilfered from an unattended back kitchen helped to ease the knawing of their hungry stomachs. Briar made sure to take note of where their unsuspecting benefactor lived, so that he could find them for repayment when his troubles were over.

An hour later they stood together, studying the dark, hulking shadows of the merchants' ships clustered together in the harbor. Pale light from the flickering street lamps sparkled in the black water, aided by a bright, full moon overhead. Their eyes, now well-adjusted to the evening shades, could study some of the details of the ships before them.

"That one belongs to the head of the guild," Briar whispered, pointing to a slender sloop close by.

"What makes you think so?" Evvy asked, also whispering. She looked at him doubtfully. "It's not as big as some of the others."

"You learn a few things spending four years with a daughter of a prominent merchant family," he said smugly. "I don't care how big it is, that ship has by far the most advantageous docking position in the harbor. Likely it's only the owner's personal craft. I'm sure he has a whole fleet of cargo vessels."

"Oh," she replied. They studied the sloop in silence for a moment. "How are we supposed to find something out?"

Briar grinned. "Why, get on board and snoop of course. Only we are not going to do it, I'm going alone."

"Briar!" Evvy hissed, grabbing his sleeve. "You can't go, you're in enough trouble already."

"Exactly. What's a little more going to hurt? I've got you involved enough in this. You stay here and keep a lookout for me."

Evvy sighed. "How will I warn you if you should need warning?"

Briar eyes darted around the dark street. Unfortunately, this setting was not the most advantageous for a plant mage. Smooth cobblestones beneath his bare feet gave way only to wooden docks and choppy water further on. Empty vendors' stalls littered the causeway, which in a few hours would be filled with a night's catch of fresh fish and the loud voices of fish-hawkers. It took longer than usual, but at last he was able to find a tendril of a climbing ivy vine hiding itself in a corner of a nearby warehouse. He walked Evvy over to it.

"This is a good place for you to hide anyway," he told her. He pulled the vine slightly away from the wall and put it in her small hand. "Just concentrate very hard on anything you think I need to know, and make sure you're holding onto this. I'll get the idea." Evvy had worked with him too long to think this suggestion odd. She merely nodded and grasped the vine more tightly.

Briar slipped off his shoes, stockings, and shirt, and handed them to Evvy. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I have to swim to the ship, Evvy. How did you think I was going to get there? Fly?"

She rolled her eyes and clutched his things, slinking back into the shadow to conceal herself.

Briar wasted no time in slipping to the edge of the nearest dock. He just had to trust his luck and the dark that no one observed him slipping as quietly as possible into the murky harbor.

The water was terrible. Besides being terrifically cold, it was also somewhat stagnant. Bits of trash and debris cluttered the narrow spaces between the docks, and the whole thing stank of fish. In an effort to distract himself, he placed bets on the chances that Evvy would have made new feline friends upon his return, and how many. He was thankful for the extra swimming pointers Daja had given him over the years, which enabled him to get there very quickly and, more important, very quietly.

He treaded water for a moment, trying to decide how to board, when he felt a mental alert from the ivy vine in Evvy's hand. There were five men on the docks boarding a rowboat. She wasn't sure, but they were very well dressed, and she suspected they might be headed his way.

Briar swam over to the thick, strong chain that held the ship at anchor to the bay floor below. He turned so that the ship's bulk was behind him, and turned back to look at the market causeway he had just come from. He saw the boat Evvy had described then, just visible in the lamplight, pushing off from the dock. It did not take long to realize they were indeed heading for the sloop he was now treading beside in plain sight.

As the rowboat came closer, Briar grasped the anchor chain and lowered himself slowly so that only his head from his nose up was still above the water line. He willed himself to keep as still as possible, and hoped he was well-enough concealed when the rowboat stopped at the base of the ship, just a few feet from his own position. As Evvy had said, there were five men inside, four of them very well-dressed indeed. The fifth seemed merely to be the oarsman.

As his limbs grew more and more chilled from the lack of movement in the chilly water, Briar watched as the oarsman called softly to the deck above him, and the four rich men were one-by-one hoisted up and over the rail on a rope chair. They did not speak unless necessary, and the silence only made the pounding of Briar's heart and the sound of his breath against the water seem deafening in his ears.

When the last of the four men had ascended, the oarsman began rowing his boat towards the anchor chain. Briar clenched his hands more tightly under the water, wondering what he should do now. He guessed that the oarsman was to wait upon the return of the other four, and was coming to tie off the rowboat while he waited. This could be perhaps Briar's best chance. He freed on of his hands from their nervous grasp around the anchor chain, and pulled a small dagger that Evvy had given him after his escape.

Still keeping quiet, he watched the man carefully, hoping he wouldn't be spotted, and waited for the right moment. He needed to time it carefully, because the man had quite the advantage, being both above Briar and in the boat. If Briar had wanted to kill the man it might have been easier to manage, but that was hardly his desire.

Finally, the moment came. The man had already tied the boat off and was settling against the side to wait. The boat drifted in a slow circle, and reached a point where the man's back was to Briar and the oar, still jutting over the side, was within Briar's grasp.

Hoping he wouldn't make too much noise, Briar put the dagger in his teeth, grasped the chain in one hand and reached up to grasp the oar in the other. Then he vaulted over the side, landing with a solid thunk, and had the dagger in the small of the man's back before he could say "jack-flash."

"Just stay still," Briar whispered. "Do as I say, and you'll live, I promise you."

"Oy! Jazer!" a voice called over the railing. "Everything okay down there?"

"Tell him you almost lost the oar," Briar prompted, poking the dagger a little for emphasis.

"The oar almost got away from me, 'mate!" Jazer called back up. "Had to scramble real quick-like to catch it!"

There was a round of hearty laughter from above, which seemed unusually loud in the murky night. "You been at the toddies agin, haven' ya?" called the other man. "Havin' trouble with a wee rowboat? Like a landlocked lass whose never seen the water afore…" This was followed by another round of laughter that began to drift away. Briar breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"Now," he whispered, reaching over and grabbing an extra length of rope, "you just sit here nice and quiet until I get back. Don't try anything funny. I've got a friend on the dock watching my back. A friend with talents you don't want to know intimately, trust me." Briar did not, of course, mention the fact that his friend was a ten-year-old former pickpocket whose chief undesirable talents were incessant prattling and the knack to attract every stray cat in the city.

When the man was sufficiently bound and gagged, Briar eased the boat over to the rope still dangling from the ship's side and climbed up it as discreetly as possible. When he reached the top, he listened carefully for sounds of any nearby patrols.

Where are Tris's handy breezes when you really need them? he thought wryly to himself. Not that it would have been much help to him, without also having Tris's abilities to listen to what the wind carried to her. Of course, if he'd had that useful talent, he wouldn't have been here in the first place, he would have just sent the breezes to follow the men on board and report back to him.

He found it decidedly ironic that of the four of them, it would be he that ended up here. Any of the girls would have done better. Tris had been raised in the merchant world. Daja had spent more of her life on board a ship than on land, and Sandry…

Well, he conceded. Maybe Sandry would have had a harder time than he would. He might not be familiar with boats, but the skills of a former thief were definitely more useful for this purpose than those of a girl with an aristocratic pedigree.

Thoughts of Sandry and the other girls brought his attention back to the problem at hand. Deciding the way above sounded clear, he edged over the railing and dropped silently to the deck.

:-:-:

Sandry could not help but feel a swell of pity as she watched Paloma sitting nervously across the room, her small frame diminished in a large, high-backed chair. The girl's eyes, already red-rimmed and dim from too much crying, were now filled with apprehension.

Sandry had locked the tea room so that the gathering there could be assured of some privacy. In addition to herself and Paloma, Rosethorn, Lark, Frostpine, and Daja were also present.

"Just take your time, dear," Lark told Paloma gently.

The girl swallowed and trembled, but managed a weak nod. "All my life," she began timidly, "since before I can remember, I've lived with Master Haman. I always assumed it was his charity, though now I'm not so sure. He told me I had no magic, but you say that I do." She hesitated. "Master Haman…" she looked fearfully around the circle.

"Yes?" prompted Frostpine, leaning forward.

Paloma closed her eyes. "Master Haman hates Winding Circle," she said quickly. She opened her eyes, almost as if expecting some kind of reprimand for these words, but when none came, she continued. "He was trained at Lightsbridge, you know, and… he and his friends have long despised the Winding Circle way of doing things. They do not agree with… ambient magic."

Rosethorn made a clucking sound with her tongue, and Sandry looked over to see the woman's arms folded and her lips set in a tight, disapproving line. "Maybe tomorrow they'll decide not to agree that the sun should rise in the east, as well. Do they think ambient magic is something we invented?"

Paloma looked confused. "What do you mean, Mage Rosethorn?"

Everyone else in the room besides Sandry exchanged looks of mild surprise. "Ambient magic just… is, Paloma," Lark explained. "It comes from the inside. Briar here had no choice in his affinity for plants, any more than Sandry for her connection to thread. Just because someone does not agree with it doesn't make it any less of a reality."

Paloma seemed very surprised. "I… didn't know that," she finally managed to say.

"So what did Haman plan to do about this… Winding Circle problem," Frostpine asked Paloma as he crossed his arms, a wry smile on his face.

"He… his plan was to take over the city of Emelan. He hoped that with authority in the city, he could influence the workings of the temple, and bring it around to his views."

Sandry peered at her intently. "And just how did he decide to accomplish this?" she asked. She had a terrible feeling she already knew the answer.

Paloma hung her head, and her next words were muttered so quietly that all the others had to lean forward and strain their ears to hear her. "Master Haman has a great deal of influence with Count Farinte, to whom the regency should fall if Vedris's bloodline were to be… eliminated."

Rosethorn and Lark both glanced at Sandry here, and Lark seemed very pale.

Paloma continued, "I don't know how well you know the count…"

"Very well," Sandry supplied.

"Then you know he's rather, well…"

"Impressionable?" Sandry prompted, trying to help.

Rosethorn snorted. "Spineless and pliable would be better words. I can see the root of Haman's plan. Farinte would be a puppet ruler only."

Paloma nodded.

"Paloma?" Sandry asked hesitantly. "My cousins… they died a few weeks ago, in a carriage accident…"

Paloma blanched, and bit her lip, her eyes wide. Then she whispered, "it was no accident my lady. And I'm afraid that your life may still be in terrible danger. You see, Duke Vedris was not the only person who was supposed to die two days ago. Master Haman had no way of knowing that you would not be in residence at the Citadel. I don't imagine he was very pleased. I think he wanted to be rid of you most of all."

Sandry took a deep, steadying breath, and managed to keep herself under control. Assassination attempts were not unfamiliar to her. But never before had any attempt hit so close to home. A small part of her had in fact died with her uncle, so in some ways Haman had been successful. "Paloma, you know that Haman framed Briar, but… how did he do it?"

"He wasn't originally going to!" Paloma cried suddenly. "He was originally going to frame…" she trailed off, and her eyes became wider than they had heretofore, and Sandry found herself wondering if they would pop right out of Paloma's face.

"Who?" Daja asked.

"Pasco," whispered Paloma. "He was going to frame Pasco. And I… and I… I was going to help him do it." She buried her head in her hands and her shoulders began shaking with muffled sobs.

The others all shared uncertain glances for a moment, and finally Lark went over to Paloma's chair and knelt down beside it. "I know it's hard, Paloma, but you're going to have to finish telling us what you know."

Sandry was fighting an internal battle. Part of her felt an immense swell of pity for this poor girl, but the other part felt revolted and disgusted. How could she have been so blind to go along with this Haman for so long? Sandry bit back these unpleasant feelings, determined to handle them on a different day, when she had the luxury and time to do so. Paloma's confession had not been too late, and there was still a glimmer of hope for Briar. That was the only thing that was important right now.

Paloma emerged from behind her hands, and feebly wiped at her eyes until Rosethorn reached over and handed her a handkerchief. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Master Haman… I don't know how he does it, but when he meets a mage, or anyone with magic, he's able to use that magic. He can only use a little bit before it's used up. He was going to frame Pasco for the murder by using Pasco's magic, and I was going to help him by doing the dancing to make the magic look believable. Then we received word that Mage Briar was returning to Winding Circle and Master Haman… he's terribly afraid of the four of you, though he's never said so much. He thought framing Mage Briar would… take care of two problems at once."

"Framing Pasco would have put the harriers in a bad light," Sandry commented thoughtfully. "Whether Master Haman would have considered that an advantage or no I cannot say."

Frostpine looked troubled. "But how can he use someone's own magic without their being aware of it?" Sandry knew that Frostpine had serious issues with anyone using anyone else's magic against their will.

Paloma shrugged. "He didn't tell me everything. I don't know."

Lark stood up. "Paloma has had a very hard day, I think we should leave off asking her anything else for awhile." She looked significantly at Sandry.

Taking Lark's cue, Sandry stood up. "Paloma, you're going to stay at the Citadel for awhile. We're going to do our best to make sure Haman doesn't even know you're here. Pasco's gone to tell Mistress Yazmin. Hopefully, we can give the impression that you are still studying there."

"Meanwhile," said Daja, "I think we should tell Captain Penmic to double Sandry's guard and keep her safe at all costs as well."

Sandry whirled around. "Oh no you don't, Daja Kisubo! I'm a fully credited mage and a Duchess. I think I can handle myself."

Daja grinned her big, white grin. "As you say, Duchess."

Sandry looked at her suspiciously before nodding and turning back to Paloma. "Come on, Paloma. I don't know if you know this, but since Pasco discovered your magic, and Pasco isn't a full mage yet, it means that I'm the one who gets to train you." She sighed. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to learn meditation. It will help calm you down."

"Oh, I already know how. Pasco taught me."

"Did he? Well, that will save some time. I'm assuming you're better at it than he was when he started…"

:-:-:

Creeping about the ship very slowly, Briar eventually made his way towards the main cabin. He could see flickering shadows on the deck floor coming from the cabin's round porthole window, illuminated from within by candlelight.

He suspected that the merchant leaders were having an important meeting of some kind in there. The question was, how was he to get inside?

Briar slipped as discreetly as possible below the window, and slowly edged his eye over the rim till he could just see inside. Inside, he found that the cabin seemed to consist of two rooms- and he could just see the merchants inside the doorway of the second room.

He decided that the owner of this vessel must be most superfluous if he had a ship cabin with two rooms. From what he'd learned from Daja, everything on a ship was supposedly designed to be space-efficient. A large, one-roomed cabin should have been more than sufficient for a captain. Whatever the reason, however, he could see how this circumstance could work to his favor. If he could just make it into the first room, he could find a place to hide and overhear everything fairly well.

Ten minutes' vigilance brought him his opportunity. A sailor bearing a tray laden with foodstuffs for the merchants entered the cabin, using a small key around his neck to enter. Quickly, Briar crept through the shadows till he was beside the door, positioning himself to be behind it when it opened. He only hoped that the sailor wouldn't open it too quickly. Quietly, he pulled out of his pocket his soggy handkerchief and waited.

Soon enough the sailor came out again, and as the door swung shut, Briar stuffed the handkerchief under the stop to keep it from closing all the way. When he could see no sailors nearby, he slipped inside.

The outer room was brightly lit, and the choice of hiding places limited. In the end, he settled for the darkest corner of the room, and only hoped he could remain still and quiet enough to go unnoticed. Already, he was hearing things of great interest.

"She conceded nothing then?"

"Nary a bit. She's as stubborn as the old man was. We're in no better position."

Briar realized that these people must have recently been in talks with Sandry.

"If the Duchess will make no concessions tomorrow, then perhaps the time has become to be somewhat more… militant," said an authoritative voice.

"You mean rioting? If we're too militant it could get us arrested. I'm not in favor of doing anything illegal."

"Sometimes one must push the boundaries to make accomplishments, Chandler. You know that."

Briar took a quick intake of breath. He hadn't thought of the possibility that someone from Tris's family might be here.

"And how would we be any different than her greatness anyway? Some say that she thinks herself above the law."

"What do you mean?"

The man who had spoken lowered his voice, and Briar had to edge closer to the open doorway to hear his words.

"…don't think it was an accident that the Moss boy killed her uncle. Many folks now suspect that he was put up to it by Lady Sandrilene herself."

"That doesn't make any sense to me. Why on earth would she want to do that? By all accounts she was very close to the Duke."

"Come now, Chandler. We're businessmen. Who among us has not had a taste of power and wanted more? I'm no hypocrite that I'm not willing to admit it. Perhaps our illustrious Duchess was getting tired of waiting. She is very close to that Moss boy, and I daresay has him wrapped around her finger. Pretty women are never trustworthy."

A flash of hot anger rippled up Briar's spine. Was that really what people thought? The impressions it gave of both he and Sandry were none too favorable. This man's theory struck Briar as incredibly ludicrous, but to his uneasy and unwelcome surprise, the other gentleman seemed eager to accept the idea.

"You know, if you're right, Dorbin, she would not be allowed to rule any longer."

"But who would take her place if she were disposed? A chaotic, skeleton government would hardly get us any closer to our goals."

"I believe Count Farinte is in line for the Regency," supplied the snooty voice of Dorbin.

"Farinte! Why, he's a sensible man in every sense. Would that he were ruler now. We'd have no trouble establishing the measures we seek."

A cold, icy knot of suspicion was rapidly forming inside Briar. This Dorbin seemed a little too well-informed for his tastes. Granted, successful tradesmen usually were well-informed, but he also seemed to be steering the entire mood of the present group.

As carefully as possible, Briar lowered himself to his stomach, and began elbowing his way to the doorway of the second room. He needed to get a look at some of these speakers. If Daja was right, the head of the merchant guild was in secret cahoots with Haman. Though he didn't know the name of the Guild's head offhand, he was almost willing to bet his shakkaan that this Dorbin was the man.

"This matter merits further investigation," said one of the underlings. As Briar peered with one eye slowly around the doorway, the man leaned in and whispered, "Guilty or no, I for one would not be displeased to see Lady Sandrilene removed from her position. Who wants to be beholden to a girl child anyway?"

The murmur of agreement that rippled through the men made Briar feel even colder. Would they possibly try to accuse Sandry of something she didn't do, just to get her out of the way? But how could they even make a case without evidence of some kind?

Evidence can be manufactured, as you yourself well know.

"I will look into this matter further," said Dorbin. Briar was not surprised to see the medallion hanging from his neck, marking him as the leader. "I have a feeling my findings will be fruitful. Now, perhaps we should discuss further our plans for tomorrow."

Briar had just made up his mind that now would probably be a good time to get going. Unfortunately for him, however, the option to leave quietly was soon robbed of him.

The door burst open with a loud, resounding crash, causing Briar and all the gentleman in the other room to jump in unison. The sailor with the key stood in the frame, eyes wide with energy. He spotted Briar almost instantly, and pointed. "There he is!"

Briar gulped. He was surrounded.

Sandry!