"Setting your dog on me won't get you your ale."

Magiere was about to explain what she could do with a bailing hook and his various body cavities, when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Ah, there you are, Magiere. Caleb said you'd come down here."

Magiere turned to see two familiar men entering the warehouse, Karlin Boigiesque, the town's baker, and Darien Tomik, constable and head of the guard.

Karlin's presence usually put her at ease. Portly, smooth headed, and always smelling of clove-spiced soap, he was more than just a baker. He now served on the town council and had been her main advocate in getting the town to rebuild her tavern. He was a good man to the core and her friend. She didn't have many friends.

Darien, on the other hand, she didn't know well. He struck her as competent and quiet, though he hadn't held his position long. Tall to the point of being lanky, he stood almost a head above Karlin and gazed seriously at her. She realized her face must be flushed with anger.

"This little weasel just asked me for a bribe to deliver an order I've already paid for," she snapped.

Darien looked at Poyesk and asked softly, "Is this true?"

"Uh, no… I think Mistress Magiere misunderstood." Poyesk became slightly nervous. "I was explaining that her delivery had to be moved into the afternoon schedule. We're running behind today."

"Behind… something, certainly," Magiere snapped, her hand still on her hip.

Karlin settled one thick palm on Magiere's shoulder in a friendly manner. Darien stepped in on her other side. The quiet, dour constable was appropriately outfitted in leather hauberk, sheathed short sword, and a small cudgel tucked in his belt.

"But all is well now?" Karlin asked, polite and jovial. "You'll send her order this afternoon?"

Poyesk smiled with yellowed teeth and backed farther away. "Yes, of course. She'll have everything well before dusk."

Magiere realized Darien's presence made Master Poyesk extremely nervous, more so than seemed appropriate for one attempt at gouging a customer. Darien's attitude stepped beyond mere disapproval from a town constable. She wondered who else Poyesk was attempting to extort and felt less inclined to let the situation drop so easily. Karlin, however, gave a slight tug on her shoulder, and began rushing her toward the doors. Darien hesitated before following. Magiere glanced back at Poyesk.

"I hope there won't be any further misunderstandings to straighten out. And you'd better hope my partner, Leesil, doesn't come in my place."

Master Poyesk only smiled again.

Magiere shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight as they emerged from the warehouse.

"It's fortunate you two happened along," she said, blinking as she lowered her hand.

Karlin didn't answer and walked slowly down the waterfront. She and Darien fell into step beside the baker.

"All right, you going to tell me what's going on?" she asked.

Darien remained silent, and Karlin rolled his shoulders as if shifting an irritating shirt seam to a more comfortable position.

"We went to speak with you at the Sea Lion," Karlin began slowly. "When Caleb said you'd gone to the docks, we thought we'd take a walk and see if we could find you."

"And you did," Magiere added. "Is anything wrong?"

"Yes and no," he answered. "You must be aware that things have changed in Miiska of late. When you and Leesil… when Rashed's warehouse was burned, the town's economy was altered."

She took a slow breath. Again, everything came back to Rashed's warehouse.

"Where we once had a surplus of money," Darien cut in, his voice even but hard, "is now a nearly empty purse. The small warehouses like Poyesk's are claiming they earn no profit, and months ago, town funds were drained in helping those who lost livelihoods after the fire. We have almost no community surplus left from taxes."

Magiere kept stride, but she was uncertain why they wanted to chat with her about problems with the town's treasury.

"What is it you think I can do about this?" she asked.

"Pay your back taxes," Karlin said plainly.

Magiere came to a sudden stop, looking in confusion between the corpulent baker and the lanky town constable. "Back taxes?"

"There's a tax for trade and business, which in turn is split between community funds and what's owed to the kingdom. Fortunately, we're a free township and don't pay a percentage to a local fief. Of course, you would know that. It's just that you've been so helpful to Miiska that the council never thought it right to insist. But we're in a crisis, and everyone must do their share. Now that you're reopening, we can expect a payment from the Sea Lion as well."

Among all the reasons Karlin would need to speak with her, this was the last thing Magiere expected. Why had no one ever mentioned this before?

For ridding Miiska of undeads, she and Leesil had been gifted some payment, but nearly all of that had gone into rebuilding the Sea Lion. She'd used up the remainder restocking to open for business. She couldn't tell this to Karlin and Darien, though.

"Leesil handles our account sheets," she lied, clearing her throat. "I'll need to speak with him."

"Of course." Karlin nodded. "We know you're just reopening and things might be a bit scattered. I must be off now, at any rate. A town council meeting was called this afternoon over a letter from Bela. Apparently, the news it contains warrants an immediate discussion, but I'll stop by the tavern tonight."

Darien gave a nod of acknowledgment and farewell and headed into town. Karlin patted her on the shoulder before following him.

Magiere watched her own feet step along the waterfront planks. Where was Leesil, indeed, now that she needed him?

She passed beyond the commotion of the docks and turned inward to the closest street paralleling the shore. Shops around her grew dense and more closely connected, side streets occasionally reaching inward to the heart of town. Her stomach was in knots. She had until evening to come up with taxes on the Sea Lion. Miiska was in trouble, and she and Leesil were partially responsible. The least they could do was pay their fair share. But how?

She passed the stable down the road from the tavern and saw Lila, the cobbler's wife, walking toward her. A large woman with a mass of burnished auburn hair, she carried a basket of bread loaves and fruit. It was a cheerful sight, as if some part of the world were calm enough to simply worry about pies and apple butter. Lila smiled when she spotted Magiere. Not everyone blamed her and Leesil for Miiska's troubles.

As Lila passed an open alleyway, two teenage boys burst out, as if they'd been lying in wait for a passerby. For a heartbeat Magiere froze in disbelief.

The first swung his fist and caught Lila across the jaw. She dropped instantly in a heap on the dry, dusty street. The second grabbed the basket and turned to flee. All the day's frustrations found welcome release in Magiere's anger.

"Chap, get him!" she shouted as she took off after the first boy.

He was fast but didn't notice Magiere until too late. She snatched him by the shirt collar, spun him around, and flung him up against the cobbler shop's wall.

The boy turned as if ready to fight, but he looked terrified, breath coming in ragged gasps and eyes wild with panic. His collarbone poked sharply out of a ripped shirt. His raised fists were bony at the ends of thin arms. At most, he was fifteen years old.

Magiere's anger drained instantly, and she heard Lila calling out her name.

Hesitant to take her eyes off the first boy, Magiere glanced quickly toward the stout woman, who was pulling at Chap.

"Magiere, help me. Call him off," Lila shouted.

Magiere stepped back, watching the first boy until she was at a safe distance. She had little choice but to let her quarry go and run back to Lila.