"Hello," Emmis said. "I'm Emmis of Shiphaven."

"My name is Ildirin," the old man said. He did not offer a hand or make any other polite gestures, but his gaze remained focused on Emmis.

Ildirin. The guardsman had addressed him as "my lord." The age was about right. Emmis swallowed. "The overlord's uncle?"

"Yes."

That explained why the inn was being guarded. "I am honored."

"We have been discussing your contention that this man has allowed people to hire assassins in his inn."

"Oh." Emmis threw the innkeeper a quick glance. "Well, I don't know that the actual hiring took place here, but one of his guests did tell me her companion had hired assassins, and sure enough, I was attacked in my employer's home as soon as I got back there."

"I can't possibly be expected to know everything that people do here!" the innkeeper burst out.

"So you said," Lord Ildirin replied dryly. "And I have acknowledged the truth of your claim. Nonetheless, it would behoove you to tell me everything you have ever known, every whisper you have ever heard, about the four foreigners who slept under your roof."

"But I don't know anything," the innkeeper wailed. "They paid every day, in good coin, and then yesterday afternoon they all departed hurriedly. They settled their bill and took their things and they were gone!"

"And you can't tell me anything they said, anything they ate, anything they drank, anyone they met, anyone they declined to meet."

"No! I mind my own business and let my customers mind theirs!"

Lord Ildirin nodded, and turned to Emmis. "And you? Can you tell me any more?"

"A little," Emmis admitted.

"Then do."

Emmis blinked, then began describing how Gita had first brought him to meet Annis and the three Lumethans.

Lord Ildirin stopped him.

"Gita?" He glanced at the innkeeper.

"My niece," the innkeeper said.

"She's over there," Emmis said, pointing.

Lord Ildirin gestured to the guardsman. "Fetch her." Then he turned to the innkeeper. "You may go, but do not leave the premises."

"Why would I leave? It's my inn!"

"'Why' does not concern me. Just don't."

"Yes, my lord." The innkeeper slid from his chair and fled to the kitchen.

A moment later Gita took the chair her uncle had vacated. "My lord," she said, with a bob of her head. Then she turned to Emmis and said, "I have your bags."

Emmis blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes. When I saw you run out I asked Annis what was going on, and she said it wasn't anything but she would be leaving, and I saw the bags and asked if those were hers – I thought she might have already packed – and she said no, they were yours, you'd left them, so I put them aside for you. They're in the scullery, in the locker with the special china."

"Thank you!" Emmis felt a rush of relief. He had not been looking forward to replacing his lost belongings, and now he wouldn't need to.

Gita smiled warmly. "You're welcome," she said.

Lord Ildirin cleared his throat. The others turned their attention to him.

"If you would be so kind as to explain how you came to introduce this young man to the foreigners…?"

"Oh, well, we had this Ashthasan woman here, she said she was waiting for someone, and then the day before yesterday she asked about another foreigner who was staying here, a man with a plumed hat and red coat, whether I knew anything about him, and I said I'd seen him and his assistant. She seemed surprised he had an assistant, and asked if I could arrange for her to speak to him without the foreigner knowing about it…"

Emmis sat and listened silently as Gita explained, and as Lord Ildirin backtracked and went over her entire story in relentless detail, asking her question after question.

Then Lord Ildirin started on him, asking him to describe his conversations with Annis, then the encounter with the two would-be assassins, and then backing up to how he had first met Lar Samber's son.

The interrogation went on and on, and Emmis began to become nervous. He glanced at the angle of the sunlight outside, and finally said, "My lord, the ambassador wanted me back not long after noon, so that I could bring his papers to the Palace."

"I do not think you need concern yourself with that," Ildirin replied. "After all, who is it you would be presenting those papers to?"

"Ah – yes, of course. To you. But I don't want him to worry about me; after all, there are assassins…"

"Yes." Ildirin looked up over his shoulder, then beckoned to the guardsman who still stood there.

"Yes, my lord?"

"We're done here for now. Send for the carriage, fetch the other two in, and tell the innkeeper that we will be taking his niece with us, to assist us further. She will be compensated for her time. And tell Zefna."

"Yes, my lord." He hurried toward the door.

Ildirin turned back to Emmis and Gita. "You two will come with me. One of the guards will accompany you, Gita, while you fetch Emmis's belongings from the scullery."

"Where are we going?" Gita said.

"The Palace?" Emmis asked.

"No," Ildirin said. "Through Street, in Allston, to talk to the ambassador.

Emmis had never ridden in a carriage before. He had rarely even seen a carriage; he doubted there was a single person living in Shiphaven who owned one. He wondered where Lord Ildirin kept his; he had never noticed anything like a stable or carriage barn connected with the Palace.

He had wound up facing backward as he rode, seated next to the guardsman, facing Lord Ildirin, with Gita diagonally across from him. The coachman and the other two guards were riding somewhere on the outside of the vehicle, where Emmis couldn't see them.

It was slightly disorienting, riding backward; he could not recall ever having done it before, as wagons usually didn't have any reversed seats. And they didn't have any seats upholstered in velvet like these, either, or lace curtains over glass windows. This was an adventure, riding in Lord Ildirin's coach – though it meant he wouldn't be making any stops on Bargain Street.

Gita was staring out the window, wide-eyed, as the carriage rumbled up Commerce Street; Emmis thought she looked more terrified than excited. Lord Ildirin was quite composed, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes closed; he appeared to be resting.

Emmis glanced sideways at the guardsman, but he looked bored, and not inclined to talk.

Emmis wondered who Zefna was. He had been hustled out to the carriage and had not seen who else the guard spoke to. From Lord Ildirin's phrasing it didn't seem as if Zefna could be any of the guards, or the coachman, or the innkeeper; who else was there?

He coughed, hoping the guard would take an interest.

Instead, Lord Ildirin's eyes opened. "Your pardon, Emmis," he said. "I was contemplating what I've learned today."

"Of course, my lord," Emmis said hastily. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"But you're bored and curious, and after the better part of a mile, the novelty of riding in a nobleman's carriage has worn off. I entirely understand, young man. I could continue questioning you, if you like."

"Oh, that's all right," Emmis said hastily. Lord Ildirin's interrogation had been exhausting.

"Or perhaps there are questions you would like to ask me?"

"Ah…"

"I can always simply decline to answer, should you pry into inappropriate matters, and I think I would find it amusing to learn what you consider worth inquiring about. Ask away, sir."

"Ah… who is Zefna, my lord?"

Lord Ildirin smiled. "A person in my employ," he said. "Someone adept at listening without appearing to, watching without being seen, and gathering information without being noticed. He is residing in the Crooked Candle at present, alert for anything of interest."