Edeard had no idea how many times he’d been to identical parties over the last four decades. The only number that registered was too many.

“Oh, come on,” Kristabel said quietly as they made their way under the gurgling water that surrounded the main doorway. “You can do this.”

“There’s a difference between can and want to,” he murmured back. Then people noticed that the Waterwalker and the mistress of Haxpen had arrived. Hopeful smiles spread like wildfire. Edeard put on an equally enthusiastic “happy to be here” face for everyone to see, twinning the burst of enthusiasm from his mind. He helped Kristabel out of her scarlet and topaz cloak, unbuttoned his own signature black leather cloak, and handed both to a doorman.

I wonder if the Opera House cloakroom fiends are here tonight? They’d get a good haul out of this lot.

“Macsen and Kanseen are here; look,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re not to talk to them until you’ve talked to at least fifteen other couples,” Kristabel ordered. “Once you and Macsen start, that’s it for the evening.”

“Yes, dear.” But he grinned because the rebuke wasn’t as sharp as they had been of late. Kristabel had actually brightened up considerably in the last few days since he’d spotted the Skylord. And anyway, she’s right. Macsen and I are a pair of dreadful old bores.

A third hand pinched sharply. “And less of that,” she warned.

“Yes, yes, dear.”

They smiled at each other, then parted. It was easier to work the crowd separately, they’d found.

A wine importer cornered him first. The man and his very young wife were keen for trade with Golspith province, where some excellent vineyards were producing some wonderful new varieties. The merchant’s third hand plucked a glass from a waiter. It turned out he was proud to be sponsoring all the party’s drinks for Mayor Trahaval tonight. Edeard took a sip and agreed the new wine was all he had promised. “So if you could see your way to mentioning the ruinous tariffs to your beautiful wife …” Which Edeard promised he would do.

Funny how people still thought he was the boss in their marriage.

Then came the street traders’ association chief. The man assured the Waterwalker of his vote and those of his fellows for Chief Constable, but then, Edeard had always taken care to maintain good relationships with the associations.

Next was a Guild Master from the shipyards. A local Councillor, a woman: “Just completely inspired by your wife, so I stood at the last election, and now I’m on the Council.” Three sons from the district’s Grand Families, wanting his opinion of joining the militia regiment. A shopkeeper. A chinaware dealer called Zanlan, who was the fifth son of a third son in a big merchant family, inordinately pleased to have broken free and set up for himself, importing interesting new cargoes from many provinces. “I’m a member of the Apricot Cottage Fellowship,” he told Edeard proudly.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” Edeard muttered diplomatically.

“We’re new, a generation like myself who aren’t going to sit about living off our families. Things are changing on Querencia, and we want to grasp those opportunities for ourselves.”

“That’s the kind of talk I like to hear,” Edeard said, genuinely impressed.

“Of course, none of the established guilds and associations recognize us. They’re probably frightened of the competition. And the Orchard Palace ignores us completely; we get frozen out of so-called open contracts.”

“Leave it with me,” Edeard promised. “I’ll make some inquiries.”

“All we ask for is a fair market.”

Then there was a blacksmith. A female apprentice from the Eggshaper Guild who was a little overawed and a little drunk.

He was on his fifth glass of the appalling new wines and his third plate of heavily spiced pastries when he caught sight of Jiska and hurried over. “You count as a party guest,” he told her. “Talk to me.”

“Oh, poor Daddy. Is Mummy bullying you horribly again?”

“I’m on a quota.”

“Sounds dreadful.” She gave him a knowing grin. Jiska was the second of their seven children, blessed with her mother’s fine-featured beauty but with Edeard’s dark hair. She was wearing a simple sky-blue dress with a narrow skirt, contrary to this season’s fashion. But then, Jiska had never gone for the excesses of Makkathran’s society, for which Edeard was extremely thankful.

“So where’s Natran?” he asked.

“He sends his apologies; there was some crisis at the ship. The new sails weren’t right; bad rigging or something.”

“There’s always a crisis with that ship. Is it actually seaworthy?”

“Daddy!”

“Sorry.” Actually, he quite liked Natran. The man was from a trading family, but after serving time with the family fleet, he’d acquired a boat of his own. He was determined to found his own fleet and fortune.

“He’s doing very well for himself, you know,” Jiska said defensively. “His agents have several profitable cargoes lined up.”

“I’m sure they have. He’s a smart young man with a whole load of prospects.”

“Thank you.”

“Uh … have you ever heard of the Apricot Cottage Fellowship?”

“Yes, of course. Natran is affiliated. It’s made up of people with a similar background to himself who’ve banded together for a greater political voice. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s a good idea. I like the way some family sons are striking out for themselves.”

“Well, the older merchants should start taking notice of the fellowship’s grievances. The way they treat legitimate competition isn’t exactly lawful.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You want to hear that, do you, Daddy? How my boyfriend and his friends spend their drinking time grumbling about unfair competition from larger rivals, how no one listens to them, how the world ignores them? I can talk for hours on the subject if you wish.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure they’ll find a way of making their presence known in the Council. Every other pressure group in the city certainly seems to manage.”

“Daddy, you’re such a cynic.”

“So when are you going to take him out to our beach lodge for a week and the day?”

The look she screwed her face up into was one of pure dismay. “Urrgh! I thought you wanted to rid Makkathran of useless tradition, especially something as demeaning as that one.”

“Er …”

“You know, I was eight before I found out the ‘Ignorant man’ song was all about you. That was a fun day at school; even my closest friends … Oh, never mind.”

“Ah, yes. I never did forgive Dybal for writing that one.”

“It’s horrible.”

I thought it was quite funny, actually. “It’s in the past, darling. Don’t worry about it. But my question still stands. You could do a lot worse.”

“I know. It’s difficult for him; this is only his second year as Captain. And we’re not going to rush into anything.”

“You’ve been going out for five years now,” he pointed out reasonably. “When you know, you know.”

“I’m sure love at first sight worked well for you and Mummy. But I need to know someone more than a couple of days.”

“It was not two days,” he protested. “I spent weeks wooing her.”

Jiska’s delicate eyebrow shot up. “Daddy, tell me: You didn’t just say ‘wooing’?”

He sighed in defeat. “You know, maybe if your generation did a bit more wooing, I might have a few more children married off.”

“I’m not even forty yet.”

“And still beautiful.”

She pouted. “You old charmer. No wonder Mummy fell for you.”

“Just so you know, I don’t have any problem if you and Natran do want to go before the Lady and marry.”

“Yep, got it, Daddy. Actually, got that four years and eleven months ago. Anyway, my big brother is certainly doing his bit. You know what?” She leaned in, eyes agleam.

“What?”

“I think Wenalee is expecting again.”