“Nothing here, boss,” one of the pointsmen announced, and Monteia nodded.

“Upstairs.”

Eslingen trailed behind them, the keys jangling in his hand, pausing only to be sure that the lantern was well out. Monteia led her people into the kitchen–Adriana and the cookmaid stood back against the garden wall, arms folded, saying nothing even when one of the pointsmen nearly upset the stew pot–and she herself ran a thin rod into the huge jars of flour. Huviet peered over her shoulder, and into every corner, all the while darting wary glances at Adriana and the scowling maid.

“Nothing here either,” a pointsman announced, and Monteia straightened, one hand going to the small of her back.

“Devynck’s office,” she said. “And then upstairs.”

Monteia herself went through Devynck’s office, though she disdained to touch the locked strongbox that sat beneath the work table. Huviet looked as though she would protest, seeing that, but Monteia fixed her with a cold stare, and the little woman subsided. At the chief point’s gesture, Eslingen led the way into the garden and up the outside stair, then stood back while the pointsmen went into each of the lodgers’ rooms.

“I’ve four people staying with me now,” Devynck said, from the top of the stairs, “all known to me, Monteia, except Eslingen, and he came recommended by a woman I’d trust with my life. So that’s four rooms out of six, and the others are all empty. But see for yourself.”

“We will,” Monteia said, without particular emphasis, and Devynck snorted, and climbed down the stairs again, her shoes loud on the wood. The chief point made a face, and nodded to her people. “All right, get on with it–and remember what I said.”

Eslingen leaned against the wall, the suns’ light hot on his back. At least the other lodgers were away, either at their jobs, or, like Jasanten, at the Temple of Areton, and he made a face at the thought of explaining the searches to some of his more truculent neighbors. Still, he would deal with that later, if anyone noticed. So far, though, the pointsmen had been remarkably tidy in their work. He was just glad Rathe wasn’t among the group, and couldn’t have said precisely why.

He straightened as Huviet started to follow a pointswoman into one of the rooms, and touched Monteia’s shoulder. “Chief Point, I’ve no objection to her going into the untenanted rooms, but that woman has no status here, and I won’t have her in the lodgers’ rooms.” He left the accusation hanging, delicately, and saw Monteia suppress a grin.

“Mistress Huviet, you will have to stay outside.”

Huviet drew herself up. “You keep taking their part, Chief Point. One would think you were on their side.”

“I’m here to act for the city’s laws,” Monteia said. “This search is at your behest, mistress, that’s all you have a right to.”

Huviet looked as though she was going to say something else, but as visibly swallowed her words. She turned on her heel, and moved down the hall, to stand ostentatiously in the doorway of the next room. “Be sure and check the walls for hidden panels.”

Monteia rolled her eyes, then looked at Eslingen. “So you’re the new knife. Rathe spoke to you?”

“Yes.” Eslingen kept his eyes on the city woman, moving on to the doorway of the next room.

“Good.” Monteia nodded. “He speaks well of you, at least on first acquaintance. I hope you’ll keep his advice in mind.”

“Send to Point of Hopes if we have trouble,” he said. Eslingen tilted his head at the pointsmen filling the hallway. “And who do we send to for this, Chief Point?”

Monteia looked at him. “There are a lot of other things I could be doing, Eslingen, things that would close the Brown Dog for good. And that might be simplest right now, seeing that there are plenty of people who’d like to see it closed, just because Devynck’s a Leaguer and a soldier when it’s a bad time to be either.”

Eslingen looked away, acknowledging that she had the right of it. “People are scared,” he said, after a moment, not knowing how to apologize.

“I know it,” Monteia said, flatly, and then shook her head. “I’d have to be deaf not to hear what’s being said, and I’ve been offered coin to be blind, too, for that matter. To close my eyes and not see, what did she call it, events taking their course.”

“Fire?” Eslingen asked, instantly, and as quickly shook his head. “Surely not, not in a neighborhood like this, everything cheek by jowl–”

Monteia gave a twisted smile. “You think like a soldier. I doubt anyone hereabouts would destroy real property, they’ve had to work too hard to get it. But that’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m offending the hells out of an old friend.”

Eslingen nodded. It was like war, a little, or more like taking a city. You saved what you could through whatever methods were necessary. You didn’t make friends, you usually lost some, but you kept some part of yourself intact. He doubted Monteia would appreciate the analogy, however, said only, “If we get any further trouble, Chief Point, I promise we’ll send to you.”

“Good.”

“We’re finished here, ma’am,” one of the pointsmen said. “Still nothing.”

Monteia nodded briskly. “Right. Downstairs, then.”

Eslingen stood aside with an automatic half bow, and the chief point grinned. “Served with Coindarel, did you? He always was one for a pretty man with good manners.”

“And I was beginning to like you, Chief Point,” Eslingen muttered.

He followed her down into the garden, well aware that Devynck was waiting, hands on hips, beside the fence that marked the edge of the kitchen garden. She fixed him and the chief point with an impartial glare, and said, “Find anyone, Monteia? My keys, Philip.”

Eslingen handed her the knot of metal, and she restored it to its place at her belt, still staring at Monteia.

The chief point shook her head. “No. Nor, for the record, did I expect to, and so I told Mistress Huviet when she made her complaint.”

“They’ve just been moved,” Huviet said. “She had warning, they took the children away before we could get here.”

“Do you have any proof of that?” one of the other pointswomen snapped, and Monteia held up her hand, silencing both of them.

“My people have been in and out of the Old Brown Dog half a dozen times since the children started disappearing–easily half of those since Herisse Robion vanished–and all without warning. There’s been no sign of children, or are you calling me a liar, mistress?” Huviet said nothing, and Monteia nodded in satisfaction. “If anything, Devynck’s been discouraging the local youth from coming here. I will take it very ill if there’s any further disturbance in this neighborhood.”

“It won’t be us who causes a disturbance, Chief Point,” Huviet said, stiffly.

Before Monteia could say anything to that, Loret appeared in the doorway, one hand in the waistband of his breeches where he stashed his cudgel. “Eslingen–”

“Trouble?” Devynck asked, eyes narrowing.

“There’s people here, ma’am, they say they know the points are here, and they want to make sure everything’s all right.”

And I wish I thought that meant they were on our side, Eslingen thought. He said, “I’ll deal with it.”

“Not alone,” Monteia said, and fixed her eyes on Huviet. “If this is your doing, mistress–” She broke off, gestured for Eslingen to precede her into the tavern. To his relief, a pair of pointsmen followed, drawing their truncheons.

The main door was closed and barred, but Eslingen could see blurred shapes moving outside the windows, and could hear the dull buzz of voices. Not angry, not yet, not calling for blood, but the potential was there, clear in the note of the crowd. Monteia’s frown deepened, and she looked at Eslingen. “Go ahead and open it. I’ll talk to them.”

Eslingen’s eyebrows rose at that–he lacked the chief point’s confidence in her powers of persuasion–but, reluctantly, he slid back the bar. Monteia flung the door open, and stepped out into the sunlit street.