co ornament

5

THE DEMANDS
OF REBELLION

All during the ride back to the city the Balitangs could hear the sounds of crows in raucous battle with Stormwings. The birds nagged the Stormwings, pecking them on their sensitive human parts, doing their best to cause the immortals to fly into one another. The crows delighted in the Stormwings' fury and in the fact that being smaller, they could escape harm by flying close to their victims. The moment one Stormwing cut another, even by accident, they turned on each other. People had to dodge falling steel feathers, all of them deadly. Aly spotted three of her pack among the passersby and signaled them to gather as many Stormwing feathers as they could find. Put to an arrow as fletching, they turned ordinary arrows into mage killers.

The only peaceful note showed high over the fray. A pair of kudarung, one chestnut, one bay, soared on columns of hot air rising over the city.

The Balitangs took another route home to avoid late-afternoon market traffic. Aly stumbled and nearly tripped when they passed through Nimegan Square. Someone had made changes to its fountain, one of the city's attractions for its carvings of climbing monkeys on stone trees. Cut into the white marble a foot apart, the open shackle symbol lined the rim all the way around.

By the time the family reached Balitang House, the sun had begun to dip beyond the palace heights. The ladies and children bathed and changed into more comfortable clothing, then took a quiet supper in the smaller family dining room. Once they had finished eating, Winnamine told the maids they were free for the evening. The Balitang ladies adjourned to their sitting room to talk.

Aly retreated to her workroom to read the reports her people had left for her. She noted each new checkpoint they listed on her map of the city; changed the pins that marked allies, enemies, and those still undecided to match her latest information; and placed a green spy marker on Grosbeak's street. Now that she had one of Topabaw's information collectors identified, she would put her people to watch the man, to mark who else reported to him for Topabaw. She meant to turn the spy-master's network of agents inside out, leaving the regents virtually blind to what actually went on in the city.

“Are you coming?” Nawat leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everyone's there but you.”

Aly put her papers aside. “I wasn't sure if we'd meet early or not.” She walked past him, expecting him to kiss her, but he seemed determined to keep to his new hands-off rule. She almost reached out to touch him, only to remember that the raka were waiting. She had some fast talking to do if she meant to finish the night alive.

She poked her head into the meeting room. “Let's go to the Pavilion of Secrets,” she suggested pleasantly. “I could do with some evening air.”

Chenaol and Ochobu complained, Chenaol because her feet hurt, Ochobu because she just liked to complain, but everyone followed Aly and Nawat outside. Only when they were safely within the pavilion's magical protections, and the miniature kudarung who nested in the roof beams had settled down, did Ulasim look at Aly and raise his eyebrows. “I assume you did not have us troop out here for so much nice, warm, damp air,” the big raka said drily. “Even if the spells do keep out the mosquitoes. Do you fear the security spells in our regular meeting place have been breached?”

“No,” Aly admitted, “but they won't prevent our people from hearing you shout when I break my news, and I'd hate for them to witness an argument from our wonderful commanders.” She beamed at all of them and perched on a railing. From here she could see all their faces despite the twilight shadows.

Dove rolled her eyes. “Aly, just once, forego your love of drama and spill whatever surprise you have. Otherwise I'll go back and listen to Sarai growl about how nobody at court cares about anything that matters anymore.”

Aly looked at them, noting suspicion even in Nawat's eyes. Kyprioth, you'd better be ready if they jump me, she thought at the god. “Well, I have good news and better news,” she told them. “The good news is that Topabaw has a spy in this household.” As they stiffened she quickly added, “The better news is that it's me.”

Ulasim had chosen to lean against one of the pillars that supported the roof. “And that's good?”

“It's not just good, silly,” Aly said affectionately, “it's necessary.” She looked at each of their faces. Ysul struggled with silent laughter. Chenaol began to wave a palm fan as Quedanga examined her nails. Fesgao and Dove waited patiently for her to continue, as Nawat looked at Aly and gave his bird shrug. It stands to reason Nawat doesn't understand, Aly told herself. Crows don't sneak into each other's nests and pretend they belong there. “Think about it,” she continued. “Topabaw must have people in every important household in the city. He's had his job long enough to do it. How do you think he would feel if he kept failing to get someone on the inside here? You've already held him at bay for three weeks. He'd think we were up to something smoky, and he would be right. It's much better to have someone report to him regularly, and the fact that he recruited me just makes it easier. As it is, we still need to look for his spies in other households to do the odd search when they visit us. Topabaw will want to be sure I'm telling him everything.”

“Doesn't he trust his own spies?” Nawat asked. “Why have them if he can't trust them?”

“Because it's how the shadow world works,” Aly explained, her eyes on Ochobu. The old mage was glaring at her. “No spy trusts another. The only thing they expect is a mix of truth and lies. They protect themselves first. Topabaw would be a fool to believe every word I send him; he'll check my reports out of reflex.”

“How can you be so certain?” demanded Ochobu. “How can a country maid from Tortall know so much?”

Aly grimaced. “Your god picked me,” she reminded the old woman, not for the first time, she thought, and certainly not for the last. “In your shoes, I would expect him to arm me for my post. Do you think the raka could have gotten away with half of what they've done this winter if Topabaw were young and fresh? He believes his own legend. He's been doing this so long that he thinks he can't be tricked. We can use that certainty for many interesting bits of work, and we shall. We will turn his system against him.”

“Are you all mad?” barked Ochobu. “He could be listening to every word that's said here at this moment—or she'll tell him what we say when she reports to him!”

“If you weren't so disagreeable, Mother, you'd just put a spell on her and find out right now,” Ulasim told Ochobu.

His mother glared at him. “I've worked magic all day,” she snapped. “If you're so clever, you do it.”

“That's very nice, Mother, except I'm no mage,” Ulasim retorted.

Ysul shrugged and threw something that blazed like a white veil in Aly's Sight. She let it sink into her skin, though it itched. He inspected Aly, then frowned at Ochobu and shook his head.

“No listening spells?” asked Fesgao.

Ysul hand signaled, None.

Aly smiled at Ochobu as if the old mage were a favorite elder who was getting peculiar with age. “Ochobu, if you couldn't crack my liar's house, what makes you think Topabaw can? And I doubt his successor will be any better.”

That startled them. “Successor?” whispered Chenaol.

Aly nodded. “Well, he'll have one. Too much is slipping through his fingers for him to keep his post much longer. Unless he moves first, of course. Once he knows the regents are losing their faith in him.”

Quedanga blinked. “They are?”

“So he will hear,” Aly informed them. “As the regents will hear that Topabaw is unhappy with their treatment of him. When people who like control feel that they are not in control, they tend to react with a hammer, not a needle. If you keep them feeling things are out of control, believe me, there will be a change in many positions at court. Perhaps even the top positions. Either you trust me, or you do not,” Aly reminded them patiently. Her father had taught her that spies spent much of their time explaining themselves to those they worked for, and that any spy must accept such explanations as part of the work. “If you do not,” she continued, “then you are already destroyed. I've had ways to send word to Topabaw for nearly a month. Since you are here and breathing, and no member of the family decorates the harbor posts, I suggest that you stop fussing and see to your own projects. We are nowhere near a victory.”

“I bet she gives Topabaw even more headaches than she gives me,” commented Chenaol. “I could almost feel sorry for him.”

Ysul stared at Chenaol, plainly shocked.

“You haven't known her as long as we have, lad,” the cook told him kindly. “When you do, you'll understand.”

Aly looked at Dove, who smiled crookedly. “I tend to be of Chenaol's mind. Now. What else have we to discuss?” Dove asked, looking at Ulasim.

Later, as their gathering broke up, Aly called, “Nawat? I have something for you to do.”

His eyes lit up. “You do? Something real?”

“Something important,” Aly assured him. “Come back to my office.”

“Did Topabaw hurt you?” Nawat asked as they went inside. “Did he frighten you? I will hurt him if he did.”

Aly ushered him into her office and closed the door. “I was as scared as I needed to be,” she said, resting a hand on his arm, noting in spite of herself the shift of his wiry muscles under cloth and skin. “You need to be afraid some in a spot like that, or the questioner can tell something isn't right about you.” She sat at her desk and produced a sheet of weathered parchment from a drawer. From another drawer she got out ink and an expensive pen. “This will be tricky. I need a crow to drop this in a very specific location.”

Nawat sat in one of her chairs, looking at her. Glancing up at him, Aly couldn't tell what thoughts ran behind his deep-set eyes. “It doesn't seem important to you, perhaps, but trust me, Topabaw won't like it one bit.”

“You wish me to send a messenger for you,” he repeated, his voice flat. “Or better, maybe, I should be your messenger.”

Aly beamed at him. “It would be lovely if you did it, if you can. I'm not sure the crows here will understand me like the Tanair ones did.”

“They will,” Nawat said, still expressionless. “The god wagered with all the crows of the Isles, not just the Tanair flock. We serve you and keep you alive, and we win the wager. They learned to speak with you just as you learned to speak with us.”

“That must be some wager, that all the crows of the Isles want to win it,” Aly remarked, shaking her head. “What is it—eternal life? Unlimited chances to heckle Stormwings?” She forgot her question almost as soon as she asked it, bending her head over her work. Carefully she wrote in an elegant, properly bred lady's script:

He says he wishes new blood, and new methods, but he also remembers years of service. Still, I think with a bit more discussion, he will appoint you to a post that will certainly restore all of our family's fortunes.

Aly waited for the ink to dry, then crushed the weathered parchment several times. Next she ripped pieces off, making sure that none were so large as to destroy the central message. Kneeling on the floor, she briefly rubbed each side of the paper against it, until the parchment looked mauled. She offered it to Nawat.

“It must be dropped near the door of Topabaw's offices, but not too near.” She opened a palace map and showed Nawat the spot she meant. “He works and does his torturing there. The reports are that he starts his workday not too long after dawn. He'll be watching the ground out of habit, so don't leave it in the open where anyone can see it. Put it under a bush or something, so he'll just glimpse a corner.”

“And stay to be certain he takes it,” Nawat added. “I am not a man as Ulasim or Fesgao is, Aly, but I have a mind.”

He walked from the room, leaving Aly to stare after him. What had he meant by that? she wondered, baffled. She hadn't said she thought him stupid, or lacking a mind!

He's so touchy anymore, she thought, biting her lower lip when it dared to quiver. He's the only real friend I have here, the only one I can trust not to turn on me if I don't do all the right things. If he doesn't like me . . .

She refused to finish the thought. She had work to do. Opening a box, she drew out clothes and put them on: a black hood that left only her eyes uncovered, a black suit that covered her from chin to ankles and wrists, black gloves, and long slippers that laced up over the legs of the suit. The entire thing was made of oiled cloth to repel water and spelled to make anyone who looked at her forget she was there. For the moment she let the hood dangle at her back, so that her own people could see her when they arrived.

They came as the watch called the midnight hour, all dressed as Aly was, carrying robes, gowns, and cloaks. Aly herself had put on the hat, veils, and loose overrobes of a Carthaki woman of noble blood. Small, dark-faced Jimarn wore the same disguise over her own black suit. Fegoro donned a Tortallan Bazhir's robes and headcloth. Lokak wore a southern Carthaki's full-sleeved shirt and billowing trousers under a cloak and turban, posing as Jimarn and Aly's escort. Yoyox dressed in the all-covering black hood and habit of the Black God's priesthood, having sacrificed at the god's shrine that afternoon in repentance, in case the god should decide he was being impious. None of them was worried: of all the gods, the Black God of death was the most forgiving.

From a secret basement under the laundry house, they took a tunnel that led under a block of wealthy houses, emerging in a shed where the slaves who tended the nearby public garden kept their tools. Walking casually, stopping to buy treats from late-night street vendors, the “Carthakis” and the “Bazhir” strolled down to the part of Dockmarket that stayed open late. Yoyox was already there, having taken a different route: a watchman's shack at the landward edge of one of the merchant docks. A soldiers' checkpoint was set at the end of the dock, but it was empty, as were others set to guard the landings. With the harbor's mouth blocked by a protective chain at night, there seemed little point in soldiers' waiting for ships that would not land until after dawn.

The watchman was a friend. He left for a walk as Aly and her people removed and folded their disguises, tied hoods and gloves in place, and checked that measuring cords were wrapped securely around their waists. Once they were ready, Yoyox opened the hidden trapdoor at the rear of the shack, revealing a ladder down to the edge of land under the docks. Silently they all climbed down into the stench and ooze of the harbor's edge. Here the boulders that lay against the earth were covered with a dark slime, which made the footing very tricky. Jimarn, who knew the harbor's reeking edges better than anyone after nearly a month of removing bodies from the Examples pier, led the way. They stayed connected to one another by a length of rope. The spells that kept them safe from observation made it impossible to see each other. Their only lamp was a small crystal globe that threw off enough light to show their path north and east along the shore, under the docks that supplied those who imported and exported goods to and from Rajmuat.

At last they came to a halt under one of three docks separated from the merchant docks by a fine chain net, the farthest edge of which was anchored well past the end of the wooden piers. It did not quite reach the boulders, which meant that Aly and her people could slip into the gap between land and net. Only there did they slide their hoods from their heads so that they could see one another. They didn't have to worry about drunken sailors stumbling through here and catching a glimpse of them. This stretch of the Dockmarket was guarded at street level. The three docks that served the slave markets were set between two nets designed to stop any slave desperate enough to jump ship and try to escape.

Quickly they separated, Yoyox and Jimarn to the farthest of the three docks that supplied the slave markets, Fegoro and Lokak to the second, and Aly to the first, and shortest, of the three: the one where the ship in which she had been a slave had moored. Working quickly and memorizing their results, they took the measurements of the length, width, height, and thickness of all the wood that made up the docks. Once they had mapped the area thoroughly, they gathered on the other side of the net, covered their heads and faces again, and returned to the watchman's shack. There they resumed their disguises for the trip back to Balitang House.

Only after they had all written down their measurements on a map that Aly had made did they return to the laundry house. Guchol, Atisa's sister, waited for them there. Guchol took charge of the stinking suits and thrust them into a large tub of specially treated water to soak, while Aly and Jimarn cleaned up in a second tub filled with soapy water, and the three men scrubbed themselves in a third.

“A good night's work, my lambs,” Aly told them as she dried herself. “And a better night to come quite soon, I think.”

“Yes, Duani,” her pack mates chorused.

Before Aly went to bed, she stopped in the refitted storage room that served Ochobu and Ysul as a workroom. Picking up a slate and chalk, she wrote a request in code for twelve pots of the sticky, flammable paste called blazebalm.

 

Trotting downstairs the next morning to get more of the soap Ochobu made specially for Dove, Aly discovered a number of servants were already at work, taking bouquets of flowers out into the public areas of the house.

“They know Lady Sarai's back, all right,” Boulaj told Aly as she carried a delicate arrangement of orchids up to her mistress's rooms. “Ulasim says it's worse even than the year before they were exiled. And there are some for Her Grace and Lady Dove.”

“I know Dove will be pleased,” Aly said, straightfaced. “She lives for admirers.” As Boulaj snorted and continued up the stairs, Aly went in search of one of her pack. She found plump Atisa arranging a bouquet of bird of paradise flowers in a vase inside the large, formal sitting room.

“Good morning, Duani,” Atisa said cheerfully. “Are you still dazzled by the magnificence of the palace?”

“I was more dazzled by the idea of man-eating fish,” Aly replied, helping to position greenery around the orange blooms. “Atisa, you help Chenaol with the market shopping, don't you?”

“Every other day,” Atisa said with a nod that made her pinned brown curls leap free of her rolled hair. “When she goes to the fish market. She likes to take Hiraos or Rasaj to the meat markets.”

Aly grinned. The two men of her pack chosen by Chenaol were the most handsome ones, which Aly suspected was the reason Chenaol requested their help with the heavier meat. “You can't say where you heard it, mind, but tell one or two people Topabaw is cursing the regents for not being firm enough with these rebellions on the outlying islands. Have you identified the best market gossips?”

Atisa pressed a hand to her bosom, shocked. “Duani! The first thing we did was mark out who talks and who is heard around town. We knew you'd never let us forget it if you came and we didn't have sources ready!”

“I feared you'd be so busy beating these city boys off with sticks that you'd forget your old Duani,” replied Aly. “But I see how I have wronged you. Pass the message down through your recruits, will you? They should spread some form of rumor that Topabaw is critical of the regents, or their generals, or their laws. Make sure everyone tells a different tale—if it's always the same one—”

“They'll know it's planted,” Atisa recited. It was a lesson Aly had taught often over the winter. “Do you want me to pass it to the rest of our pack?”

Aly shook her head. “They'll get their own rumors. We'll ensure the regents and Topabaw have plenty to worry about here at home as well as in the outlying Isles.”

“Will talk really bother them?” Atisa asked quietly, her black eyes serious.

Aly patted her on the cheek. “It's hard to ignore talk that's just talk,” she said, and smiled. “It's funny, though, how gossip can burrow under the skin. You can't make it go away, and you can't answer it. The target goes frantic, trying to find where it comes from.”

“And frantic people make mistakes,” Atisa replied, once again quoting Aly. “I'm glad you're on our side, Duani.”

Aly grinned at her and went to fetch her mistress's soap.

While the family took breakfast together, Aly ate hers in the servants' mess hall. She was nearly done when Nawat came to sit across from her. “Your message is delivered. I watched him pick it up myself. He did not like what he read.”

Aly nodded. “Thank you,” she told him. “He'll suspect it was planted, but he'll have other things to consider soon. Do you think the crows will help us send more things like that?”

“They will if you call them,” said Nawat quietly. “They will even like being messengers. Talk to them in your dreams, and they will do as you ask. Just as I do as you ask. You don't need me to speak with them.”

Aly raised an eyebrow. “Are you vexed about something?” she asked softly.

He was saved from having to answer when Ulasim and Fesgao sat next to him. “Good morning, Nawat,” Ulasim greeted him. To Aly he said, “Boulaj says you had quite a conversation with the captain of the King's Guard yesterday.”

“Captain Sibigat is interesting,” Aly replied. “Sharp.” Wanting to needle Nawat for being so distant and contrary, she added, “Handsome and charming, too.”

Nawat traced the grain of the wood in the table, not appearing to listen. Fesgao whistled silently, while Ulasim raised his brows.

Aly sniffed, and despised herself for acting like a total lackwit whose nose was out of joint. “He was probably just flirting.”

“Don't get attached to him,” Fesgao warned. “He is devoted to his little king.”

“Ulasim!” Fesgao nudged his friend and pointed at the door. Two of their men-at-arms had arrived, half-carrying a young part-blood who wore only a loincloth. He was caked with dust. Chenaol came over with a pitcher and a cup as the guards helped the youth to sit next to Ulasim; Fesgao moved to the end of the table, where he could see the youth's face. Chenaol filled a cup and handed it to the lad. He gulped as if he'd had nothing liquid in a long time, water streaming from the corners of his mouth. Chenaol refilled the cup as the men-at-arms left. As the boy drank the second cup, Ochobu joined them. Finally the messenger set the cup down.

“I was sent by Inayica, captain of the Ombak,” he said, thin chest heaving. “She bids me first tell you that the swans are crows.”

Ulasim nodded. The phrase was a code to designate that the messenger carried important information. “Go on.”

“We're not anchored in the harbor, but in Moriji Cove,” said the boy. “The cap'n sent me 'acos I'm the best runner.”

Aly folded her hands on the table. Moriji Cove was on the far side of the hills that circled the harbor on the southwestern flank. This boy had run ten miles uphill and down, somehow evading the checkpoints and the city guards. She was impressed.

The boy closed his eyes and spoke as if he recited from memory. “On the Jimajen lands, the Birafu estates on Tongkang,” he said. “The raka there have risen. They killed their guards and overseers and have cut the chains from the slaves. Governor Sulion of Tongkang had his mage far-speak to the regents' mages asking for soldiers, but my captain says the first message was caught in the links of the Chain.”

From the way he said it, Aly knew that he didn't realize the chain was a human one fashioned of mages. Many of them had been set to watch each isle's governor as protection against this kind of event. She also knew that when no messages came back from the regents, the governors would know their pleas weren't reaching the capital and would try other ways to call for help, ways the Chain couldn't stop. The regents would not be able to ignore the message when they got it—Tongkang was too close to the capital, and the lands the boy had named were Prince Rubinyan's. He had inherited them when his brother Bronau had died.

“How many of our people are on the Birafu estates?” Chenaol asked.

“Two hundred–odd slaves,” said Ochobu, “five hundred villagers, and thirty-four upper servants. And it is Jimajen land, has been Jimajen land since the Conquest.”

“Is there more?” Ulasim wanted to know.

The youth opened his eyes and shook his head. “That's all the captain said, duan,” he answered. “They burned the farm, though. We could see the smoke at anchor.”

“Come,” Chenaol said. “Let's get you a meal and a bed.” She helped the youth to his feet.

“I need to get back to the Ombak,” the youth protested as she led him toward the kitchen. “They'll sail without me!”

“Tongkang hotheads!” whispered Ochobu when he was gone. “We told them to wait!”

Ulasim stroked his small beard, lost in thought.

“It's hard for people to wait when their blood is up,” Aly pointed out. “If they've heard of the other revolts, it would be even harder. Everyone says the Jimajens are cruel masters even for luarin.”

“It would be good if the rebels simply disappeared,” Ulasim remarked calmly. “If they just vanished, under the regents' very noses, so to speak. We need to get word to any of our people close enough to help. We'll take the rebels to Malubesang and let the army hunt them on Tongkang until their feet bleed.” He stood. “Let's see who we can shift. Mother, we'll need you to speak with the mages.”

Aly also got to her feet. Dove had said she wanted to visit some friends that morning, which meant she would require both her maid and a guard. Nawat remained where he was, hands fisted on the table before him, frowning.

Aly touched his fists. “I miss my cheerful crow man,” she whispered.

Nawat refused to look at her. “I miss having a place where I fit.”

Aly drew breath to argue, then shook her head and walked away. It was her experience that even the best of men had to indulge themselves with fits of moroseness. She would think of something to cheer him up once he'd had a chance to get bored with gloom.

Dove was ready for her outing. Elsren, too, was ready to go. He sat on the hall bench in his best luarin clothes, scowling as he slumped against the wall. Standing with him was his manservant, Gian. Aly smiled at him. Gian was one of Olkey's trainees. He had brought them interesting tidbits gathered when he attended Elsren at King Dunevon's court.

Dove sat next to her half brother. “Is that the face you show His Majesty?” she teased gently.

Elsren shook his head. “No. I must only show him a smiling face. That's what Aunt Nuritin says. But it's hard. Sometimes he's mean and I can't even hit him.”

“Hitting the king would be very bad,” Dove said with a nod. “But you could hit pillows instead.”

“But pillows don't make me angry,” complained Elsren. He looked up at Gian. “If I am good with the king, Gian and the guards let me gallop until we get to the city.”

Dove kissed him on the top of his head. “Well, since I know you are always good, with all that practice, you'll be able to outrace Sarai one day soon.”

Elsren grinned at her. “She'd be furious.

“My lord,” Gian said politely, “the guards are here.”

Aly glanced through the open front door as Elsren got to his feet. There indeed was a squad of the King's Guard riding into the courtyard. The hostlers waited there with Elsren's pony and Gian's horse.

“Remember, you want to beat Sarai one day,” Dove told Elsren as she straightened his tunic.

He flung his arms around her neck in an enthusiastic hug, then trotted outside, Gian at his back.

As soon as Elsren's party had left the house, the number of uniformed guards Aly had commandeered for Dove's trip, led by Junai in men's clothes, assembled there. When Dove saw them, she scowled, very much as Elsren had. “I don't require nursemaids,” she snapped.

Junai, inspecting the six men-at-arms, looked at her. “You are the half sister to the king's heir,” she said, using more words than she ever did with Aly. “You have your consequence to think of.”

Dove glared at the men-at-arms, who stared straight ahead, fighting smiles. “If you scare my friends, I will dismiss you,” she told them. “Before, Papa only made me take two guards.”

“In those days, you had plenty of people between your menfolk and the throne,” Aly said. “Now there aren't. And dismissing them is a choice you don't have.”

Dove frowned. “Sarai's the one who likes consequence, not me,” she reminded Aly. “Let's go.”

 

As the men formed a loose ring around Dove, with Junai in the lead, Aly took a position on the outside. On their way through the gate they passed the royal messenger with the beribboned copy of the Balitangs' invitation to the eclipse party, which made Dove scowl harder. “I hate parties,” she told Aly as they turned down Joshain Street, “but Engan's got this marvelous new spyglass that gives a closer view of the moon, and he'll have it there. Otherwise I'd get vilely ill for the evening.”

Few people but servants were out and about yet. Aly spotted three of her pack ranging ahead of and behind them in different disguises. Hiraos was a student, chubby Olkey a toy seller, Kioka a player. The rest of the pack and their recruits would be spread over the city right now, gathering information.

Dove headed straight for the Dockmarket. The guards had to constantly move aside as she was greeted by a storyteller, an herbalist, two fishmongers, and a potter. As they wandered down the lines of stalls, Aly noticed a thing or two: someone had carved the open shackle symbol into a doorpost. Four soldiers were posted at each point where a main street opened onto Dockmarket Way, in addition to the soldiers' checkpoints at the docks themselves. All of the soldiers looked bored.

That will change, thought Aly as Dove admired a glassmaker's new baby.

“How do you know all these people?” Aly asked as they waited for a wagon full of kegs to move out of their path.

Dove gave her cat smile. “I'm very quiet,” she explained. “Once my nurse thought I was at my lessons, or reading my books, she'd go visit with the staff. I'd make sure she was gone and take one of the tunnels outside our walls. Then I just wandered where I felt like it. Ulasim always managed to find me before I was missed. And I like to know things. It's funny how much people will tell you if they know you're interested. I can blow a glass ball, or I used to be able to. And I can gut and filet fish.”

“Did Sarai know?” inquired Aly.

“Yes, but since she liked to sneak off to the stables and the horses, we worked things out,” Dove replied.

“Didn't your father mind?” Aly wanted to know.

“For a long time he was grieving for Mama,” Dove explained. “And then he was courting and marrying Winna. I think Winna figured out what I was up to and was trying to decide if she ought to stop me when we got exiled.”

The wagon moved out of their way at last. “Don't try anything of the kind on me,” Aly told her mistress with a sweet smile. “I won't take it well.”

Dove giggled. “I think you'd find me quicker than Ulasim ever did,” she replied as they walked on. “Besides,” she added softly, “there's more at stake now.”

They had come to the poorer end of Dockmarket, where the stalls sold used materials for sarongs and sashes. The sandal and slipper makers were replaced by peddlers who sold used footwear, as well as dented pots, chipped dishes and mugs, and knives that had already been sharpened so often they were just thin strips of metal. Here a few beggars approached them, to be sent along by Dove's guards. Most didn't even try to come near, only watched them with hollow eyes.

“There weren't so many before,” Dove whispered to Aly, her thin brows knit in disapproval. “Not nearly so many.” She fumbled at her belt-purse. “Have the rest of you coins? I'll pay you from my pocket money when I get home.”

The beggars surged out of corners and alleys. Junai put up a hand in warning. “My lady, this is not a good idea.”

“Just the children,” Dove called, making her voice carry over the racket of the Dockmarket and the pleas of the beggars. “We haven't enough for all of you, I'm sorry!”

The adults fell back, some more readily than others. A few glared at Dove and her guards, all of whom had their hands on their swords. Junai was lazily turning her long staff in a circle in front of her. One twist of the carved grip at the center and long blades would spring from each end of the weapon.

Kioka and Hiraos closed in subtly, until they stood on either side of the opening the guards had left between Dove and the nearest child. The other children came around there, grimy hands outstretched. Aly watched the crowd. Merchants and customers alike turned to look. On their lips she read Dove's name, and Sarai's. Crows descended to perch on stalls, flicking their wings and tails to warn interlopers that this was their territory.

Aly heard the tramp of boots with nailed soles before she saw the wearers. Two squads of soldiers converged on them, knocking people out of the way. Children screeched as adults tried to run, knocking them down. Dove and two men-at-arms grabbed several youngsters, hauling them into the ring of guards as it closed around Dove. Aly slid slender blades from her sash, holding the grips in her palms and lining the blades up against the insides of her wrists so that the soldiers would not see them.

“Go on, get about your business!” snapped a soldier, pushing a slave out of his path. “No assembling, remember, you ignorant swine?”

The lieutenant with the other squad halted in front of Junai. “Let me pass, in the king's name,” he ordered her.

Junai stared at him, her dark face without emotion. Aly and Dove traded glances; Dove moved forward, urging the guard at Junai's right to move over so that the officer could see her. “Somehow I doubt the king is concerned with gatherings in Dockmarket,” she said icily, drawing herself up to the full height of her five-foot-four-inch frame. “When I saw him yesterday, he was far more interested in playing with toy soldiers, not real ones who strike unarmed people.”

The lieutenant stared down his nose at Dove. “And who might you be”—he glanced at Dove's guard and their excellent weapons—“my lady?”

“You address Lady Dovasary Balitang,” the guard beside Junai told the man.

“By what right do you knock people about?” Dove wanted to know, her voice quavering slightly.

“The right of the regents to decree that assemblies of more than ten folk are banned, my lady,” said the lieutenant. “There have been too many brawls in this part of town of late, and we are charged by the regents to keep order. It would be most helpful for the maintenance of order, my lady, if you returned home. They don't get nobility much down this way, and you being here may incite them to rob you.”

Dove stared at him briefly, then turned and walked down the street toward the Windward District. Aly lagged behind: the lieutenant had grabbed Junai's arm.

“Mind your place, raka bitch,” he told Junai softly. “Before someone cuts your throat in an alley.”

Aly rushed forward before Junai forgot herself and showed the man what she was capable of. “Lokeij, please hurry!” she cried, playing the fussy maid, laying hands on Junai's free arm. She had used a dead friend's name so the guard would not have Junai's true identity. “My lady says you have the perfume she bought, and she wants it right away.” She looked up at the lieutenant sidelong, fluttering her lashes, making it plain she thought the sallow-faced luarin attractive. “She's that particular, is Lady Dovasary, and I told her to let me carry the perfume, but she says I'm all thumbs. . . .” Talking as frivolously as she could, she managed to draw Junai away from the soldier and down the street. At the first chance Aly turned Junai to face forward properly and said in the softest of whispers, “Don't ever confront them like that again! Ever! You have no right to throw your life away by being disrespectful to some armed lout, not when Lady Sarai needs you. We're not on Tanair anymore, and the regents rule by the fist. Do you want me to tell your father you were stupid, or do you want to promise me you'll never be so foolish again?”

Junai drew her arm out of Aly's grip. “Careful,” she said, also keeping her voice low. “People hear you talk like that, and they may start to think you care.”

Dove glared up at Junai when they rejoined their group. “Don't ever do that again, Junai. Ever, do you understand me? Risking your life in a Dockmarket brawl with a soldier when you owe your life to us!”

Junai looked down at her young mistress, amused. “So it will seem, Mother.” She looked at Aly. “Duani,” she added with emphasis. “I will be a good girl and try not to get gutted in the market.” She moved up into the lead once more.

Dove stalked on, her small face grim. Once they were back at the house, she dismissed everyone, including Aly, and locked herself in the library. Aly waited long enough to hear the crash of a thrown object and Dove's cry of “Brutes!” before she left Dove to her rage in peace.

Aly sat on a bench in the main hall, closing her eyes to think. Did the regents understand how much they revealed by ordering their men to break up gatherings? Surely they'd been around government long enough to know it was a bad idea to let people know you feared them in groups that were not even very large.

Ulasim found her there and sat next to her. Aly opened her eyes. “I was plotting,” she told him.

The big raka looked uncommonly grim. “I have no doubt that you were,” he pointed out. “I believe you plot in your sleep. I have something to tell you. I want you to hear it from me. You may recall that we were trying to think of a way to get quick aid to the people on Tongkang.”

Aly frowned, puzzled. Why did he tell her this? That was the military side of their duties, not the spy side. “I'm sure you'll do whatever's right.”

“I believe I have,” replied Ulasim, resting a hand on her arm. “At his request, I sent Nawat and some of his crows.”

For a moment Aly's ears buzzed. Then her entire body went cold, as if she had been dunked in snowmelt. “Nawat?” she whispered through numb lips. “He's no warrior. You can't be serious.”

“He and his cousins fought well when Bronau attacked Tanair last year,” Ulasim reminded Aly. “He wants to do something, Aly. A man needs something of his own, just as a woman does. And he and his crows can get messages to far more people on and around Tongkang than my mother and all the mages of the Chain. They can watch for warships and soldiers. He thinks he can even divert an armed party. His reasoning is sound. I approved it.”

“He's a crow,” Aly whispered, clenching her hands. “A crow who spends time being a man—that doesn't make him one. You had no right to use him for this!”

“He's not your pet,” Ulasim said gently. “It is time that he learns if he is a crow or a man. As long as he sits in your shadow, he cannot be certain. And his stake in this is far higher than yours. He and his people are the raka's cousins. You are only an imported luarin.”

Aly flinched. What was wrong with her? She was on the verge of tears. “You should have asked me.”

He asked me, as was his right,” Ulasim replied without mercy. He looked her over with the gaze of a commander who saw a weakness in one of his soldiers. “Must I worry about you? Are you going to pout and mope and ignore our work?”

Aly stiffened at the verbal slap. He'd as much as accused her of not being professional. “No!” she said, outraged.

“Nawat is intelligent. He has the ears and eyes of his fellow crows,” Ulasim told Aly, his eyes direct. “This is a chance made for him. He is as safe doing that as any of us are safe.” He put a big hand on Aly's shoulder. “This has nothing to do with whatever games you play together, and everything to do with our cause. Have I made myself clear?”

Aly bit her lip. He was treating her as if she were a silly girl who could think only about her sweetheart. Worse, he was right. Just so would her own father speak to her about neglecting her job. Hanging her head, she nodded.

“Then I do not want to hear of this again,” instructed Ulasim. “There is work to be done.” He got up and strode off down the hall.