"Thank you, Guildmaster," Ildirin repeated.

Ithinia nodded in reply, then turned and swept out of the parlor.

She paused just out of sight, though, rather than proceeding directly to her workshop, and listened.

She did not really know whether the assassin was in fact present, or for that matter, whether anyone had actually sent it after the Vondishman at all. Lord Ildirin was not above attempting some sort of complicated deception, and of course the others might have somehow fooled Ildirin. She would want to check a few things before working Fendel's Superior Petrifaction.

She wished she had more servants around – not human ones, but magical – so that she could set them to spy on her guests, but at present the only ones she maintained were her four gargoyles. Little Kirna came in to help during the day, but she had gone home to her aunt well before these men showed up, and an eleven-year-old human girl might not make an ideal spy in any case.

So Ithinia stood in the hallway, listening.

"My lord?" she heard Emmis ask. "May I send one of the guards to buy honey?"

"You would prefer sending my guard to making the purchase yourself?" Ildirin's voice replied.

"I think that I should stay near Lar, my lord. We don't want to confuse or anger the creature, and it has business with both of us now."

"That's reasonable," the Vondishman said. "And who would trouble us here, in a wizard's home?"

"Good points all around," Ildirin agreed. "Very well, then, you may go ask one of the guards to buy honey."

"I could go," said a deep voice Ithinia had not heard before. She assumed it was the guardsman; she would not expect the assassin to sound so human.

"I want you here," Ildirin said. "Emmis, send Zhol – he probably wants to replace the candies he gave us, in any case. If he questions your authority, send him to me."

"Yes, my lord." Ithinia heard the rustle of Emmis rising from his chair, and started retreating down the hallway; it would not do to be seen eavesdropping. She stepped through the workshop door, then turned for a final glance.

Emmis had emerged from the parlor, but he had not gone directly to the front door; instead he was peering down the hallway, obviously looking for her.

That was interesting. Ithinia opened the workshop door and stepped back into the hallway. She beckoned to the young man.

Emmis glanced over his shoulder into the parlor, then hurried down the hall toward the wizard.

"Guildmaster," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"There's something I'd really like to talk to you about. In private."

"Oh? And this is more urgent than saving your friend from Fendel's Assassin, or keeping your own oath to the killer?"

Emmis glanced nervously toward the parlor. "Maybe not," he admitted. "Could we talk later, then?"

Intrigued, Ithinia nodded. "I think that can be arranged," she said. "But right now, you have honey to buy, and I have a spell to perform."

"Thank you, Guildmaster." Emmis bowed deeply, then turned and hurried toward the door.

Ithinia watched him go, and realized that she had no idea who the young man was, or why Lord Ildirin had brought him along. He was clearly involved in all this somehow, as his vow to provide the assassin with honey demonstrated, but just what was his role here? Was he working for Lord Ildirin? Had he been one of the would-be assassins who had changed sides?

Well, she had promised to speak with him later, and her questions could wait until then. Right now she had Fendel's Superior Petrifaction to prepare, and that was a very enjoyable spell, with plenty of energy involved, but no nasty smells or especially ugly manifestations. Like any high-order spell it was dangerous – old Berakon had snapped off a couple of his own fingers when he fouled the Petrifaction up, many years ago – but it would be fun, all the same. What was life without a little risk?

And she really wasn't sure whether it would work to deter the assassin, or not. She would want to use a very hard stone, just in case the assassin tried to wring the Vondishman's stone neck; the usual recipe might only produce sandstone, which would not be safe. Granite would be good, or perhaps basalt…

She closed the workshop door behind her.

Emmis glanced uneasily out the parlor window. How long did it take to buy a jar of honey? Zhol had been gone for hours, surely. Even Lar and Lord Ildirin had apparently run out of things to say; in fact, Lord Ildirin appeared to have dozed off in his chair, though Emmis would not put it past the old scoundrel to be faking.

Lar, of course, was still wide awake, with Ahan keeping a close watch to make sure he stayed that way.

A sound from the hallway brought Lar, Ahan, and Emmis alert; Ildirin slept on, untroubled. Emmis rose and peered around the doorframe.

The front door was still closed; he turned the other way to see Ithinia approaching, a crystal goblet in one hand and her wizard's dagger in the other.

The wizard spotted Emmis. "Is the ambassador ready?" she demanded.

"Yes, I think so," Emmis replied, glancing over his shoulder at Lar. The Vondishman was rising from his seat.

"I'd prefer he not be sitting when I do this; I'm not sure how much he'll weigh, and I don't want him to break my chair."

"I'll tell him," Emmis said, turning.

"I heard," Lar said. "Ahan, would you please wake Lord Ildirin?"

Emmis stepped aside and let Ithinia pass by him into the parlor; as he did, he glanced at the front door.

What had happened to Zhol and his honey? If the petrifaction spell was ready, then it must have been almost three hours since the guardsman headed off toward Cut Street Market, and it couldn't be more than a dozen blocks away!

But right now, he wanted to see the spell. He had never seen anyone turned to stone before. There were statues here and there around the city that were rumored to have been alive once, the work of a magician rather than a sculptor, but Emmis had no idea whether any of those stories were true, and he certainly hadn't observed any of the transformations.

And he wanted to see what Fendel's Assassin did. He wanted to be there to help if something went wrong.

So he turned away from the door and followed Ithinia into the parlor.

Lord Ildirin was blinking in his chair, still a bit fuddled; Ahan was standing beside him with his bandaged hand on the hilt of his sword. Emmis would have thought the truncheon would be more appropriate, as Ozya, the guard on Games Street, had explained, but Ahan seemed to think otherwise. Perhaps Lord Ildirin's special guards followed different rules.

Lar was standing in front of his chair, looking pale – the long wait, the knowledge that the invisible assassin was after him and probably in that very room, the prospect of being petrified even temporarily, obviously had the Vondishman scared. Still, he stood straight and unflinching, facing the wizard. He had left his hat on a small table, though; he was probably worried that the plume would shatter if turned to stone, Emmis thought.

Then he grimaced at his own foolishness. The man had taken the hat off hours ago, not long after they first arrived, because there was no reason to wear it in Ithinia's parlor. Worries about the plume had nothing to do with it.

Guildmaster Ithinia was standing facing the ambassador; her fine white robe had acquired gray smudges here and there, especially on the lower part of each sleeve, but still looked quite elegant. She stood as tall as Lar, Emmis noticed – tall for a woman.

In her right hand she held a dagger, point down – an old dagger, the blade darkened with age, the edges shaped into odd, subtle curves by countless sharpenings, the leather grip visibly worn and shaped by use to fit Ithinia's hand. The dagger had been elegant once, if not extravagant, after a fashion Emmis had seen occasionally in family heirlooms at least a century or two old. This knife had clearly been around for a long time, and seen heavy use; Emmis wondered if it was a legacy from some beloved ancestor, or whether its age gave it special potency.