As they approached the open marketplace, Wynn caught the sound of hawkers' shouts and the smell of overspiced meats. Chap whined pathetically, and Wynn pointed to a small open-fronted stall with smoke rising through a clay chimney on its snow-dusted roof. Half of the place was open all the way to the back wall. Stools were ringed around small tables.

"In there," she said.

They took a table at the back corner. Leesil sat to one side, hood pulled forward around his face, and studied the other patrons. Wynn settled in at the back with Magiere to the other side. When customers left the nearest table, Leesil shoved the vacated furniture farther away with his foot to give them more privacy. The buzz of voices all around would help mask anything they said. Leesil called out an order for tea and porridge to a boy hauling away a tray of empty bowls.

Wynn leaned intently toward him. "You need to tell us what is going on."

Magiere pulled her hood back and shook out her hair. "What do you mean?"

"You saw the drawings," Wynn whispered. "And we know who. what kind of person Byrd spoke with last night. So what does this add up to?"

Magiere closed her eyes and sighed. Leesil rubbed his face and looked away.

"What?" Wynn looked at each of them in astonishment. "You know what he is involved in, and you did not bother to tell me?"

She was reluctant to say "Darmouth" or "assassination," even in a hushed voice.

"When could we, with Byrd hovering about?" Leesil returned irritably.

Magiere frowned at him before turning to Wynn. "Ordinary elves don't mingle with humans, and I'd guess the anmaglahk are even more reluctant. So how is it Byrd could get them involved in killing…" She did not say Darmouth's name either. "I know what it looks like, but I wonder if they're up to something of their own that Byrd isn't aware of. Some purpose that has nothing to do with his plans."

Leesil remained silent, head hanging, and Wynn found no denial in his cowl-shadowed face. He must have pieced together something from the drawings and talking alone with Byrd. His silence confirmed he had suspicions, but he clearly did not understand the repercussions of Darmouth's sudden death.

"We have to stop it," Wynn whispered.

Leesil lifted his head. Magiere's pale face grew astonished.

"Save a despot?" Magiere growled too loudly, then lowered her voice. "This has nothing to do with us. What new madness have you got running around in your head?"

Chap growled from under the table, his agreement clear.

"What happens once his death is known?" Wynn whispered back. "Every noble with armed forces will seek-"

"To take control of the province," Leesil finished. "It still has nothing to do with us. I came here to learn what happened to my parents, and Byrd has been little help."

Magiere's brow wrinkled and she sadly closed her eyes. Wynn could not spare anyone's feelings in this matter.

"We will not abandon the search," she said. "But think how many villages will be devastated by a civil war… how many people will die."

"Inside or out, it's the same," Leesil snapped. "Conscriptions are up. People flee for the border, as if military service were a certain death sentence. Why does Darmouth build up forces in such a reckless manner? Either he'll assault another province, or he's bracing for an invasion. Insurrection might come in either case. It doesn't matter how it happens-war is coming, from inside or outside or both. If he's dead in the mix, so much the better."

"Do you not see?" Wynn replied in a low voice. "Civil war breaks out in Droevinka. An anmaglahk was sent to Bela after you, Leesil. Now these elves assist humans to murder a warlord. It is beyond one more war for this region's namesake. It is not just happening in the Warlands. And Darmouth still holds this province together, no matter how vile he may be.'

Leesil turned slightly toward Wynn, and she saw his face-and his open disdain. Magiere sat back, dark eyes glancing about.

"Why would the anmaglahk get involved in this?" she asked.

"I don't know." Leesil remained silent a moment. "Perhaps that's not their only purpose here."

A dull-eyed serving maid in a filthy apron pressed through patrons to their table. She thunked down four small bowls and rough clay cups, and a tin pot of brown water that was presumably the tea. Unfortunately, Magiere paid the woman before she looked into the bowls and saw what passed for porridge. When they were alone again, Magiere glanced sidelong with concern at Leesil and took a deep breath.

"Do you think Wynn is right about Byrd's plan?"

"Yes," Leesil answered, and set his own bowl under the table for Chap. "You heard me question him last night. He didn't answer, and that told me enough."

"And why is he so willing to let us study the drawings?" Wynn put in.

Leesil shook his head. "Some nonsense that it might help in my search."

"He works for Darmouth, yet he plots against him," Wynn contin-ued. "He is supposedly the only friend of Leesil's father, yet he works with these elves who have imprisoned Nein'a. And giving his cat a share of the profits… indeed! His eccentric acts are just that-an act."

Magiere raised both pale hands. "All right, we hear you."

Chap let out a vicious snarl from under the table, and Wynn jumped in her seat.

Other patrons glanced toward them and then down beneath their table. A few quickly got up and left, and a half-breath later, Leesil jerked up a foot as if struck.

A pottery bowl shot across the dirt floor and bounced between table and stool legs, splattering porridge all about.

Leesil twisted away, ducking his face, as Magiere shrank down, casting glances about at the other patrons staring at them. She turned a glower downward to beneath the table.

Wynn's jangled nerves gave way, and she lightly kicked out the toe of her boot. It collided with something soft but firm, and Chap growled in response.

"I have seen you eat worse," she whispered harshly. "Now stop it!"

"Will we ever eat in public," Magiere whispered with bowed head, "without causing a spectacle?"

No one answered her.

"I say we keep looking into the fate of Leesil's parents," Magiere continued, "until we uncover more of Byrd's scheme… and how to stop it without getting hanged from the city walls."

"Yes, good," Wynn said, relieved that for once Magiere was clearly on her side. "Leesil?"

This time he remained silent for so long that Wynn's patience was about to run out, and then he simply nodded.

"Back to Byrd's," Magiere said. "No matter what else, at least he can cook."

No one smiled at her joke. She grasped Leesil's hand, and his fingers slowly gripped down on hers.

"We should purchase a few supplies," Wynn suggested. "It would look strange to return with nothing after our excuse of leaving."

They left the eatery, which was now half-emptied, thanks to Chap's tantrum, and headed back to the open market. Wynn's mind was not on purchasing supplies or taking note of Venjetz and its people. Her thoughts were filled with how to uncover the rest of the tangled web that Byrd had woven around himself.

Chane awoke that evening to Welstiel once again murmuring in his dormancy. He sat up and swung his legs over the bed. His robin drank from a small tin cup on its cage floor, the cage placed securely on the little table in the room.

The Ivy Vine inn was a far cry from the Bronze Bell in both decor and service, though the Bronze Bell, supposedly the best in Venjetz, barely matched the middle-class establishments of Bela. And Welstiel had rented the only room left with two beds. It was clean but shabby, with a chipped water pitcher and basin resting on an uneven table.

Chane did not care. It was still preferable to another day in their makeshift tent covered over with brambles and branches. He wondered where Wynn was on this evening, what she might be doing, and if she was safe. Welstiel murmured again, and Chane stepped closer to peer down at his self-righteous companion.