"Why would you do this?" Nimra asked again. "Why does it matter to you whether or not two commoners died in the streets of this city? How does it ruin your life that the men who committed the crimes roam free?"

Vambran thought for a long time before he answered, "I could tell you, Mrs. Skolotti, that it is because I believe in seeing justice done. I could tell you that my piety and my morals dictate it. And that would be true. But it also just happens that I have a sister, a young woman who will turn sixteen tomorrow, in fact. But for the grace of Waukeen, it could have been her in that alley the other night. That, and the man who led your daughter astray with his lies is also courting that sister of mine."

Nimra sat very still.

"A man of candor. I like that," she said. "I pray then, sir, that you make sure they never hurt anyone again."

"It's time, sir," Bartimus said, nodding toward Efusio's in the center of the plaza. "The others are ready and waiting."

Grozier nodded and said, "Good."

He stepped down out of the carriage and crossed the cobblestone lane and headed toward the cafe, which faced the plaza and had a large open patio in the front. A series of small tables were arranged on the patio, which butted right up to the street, and people could gather to enjoy a strong cup of Taahalaran coffee-or perhaps a good ale imported from afar, such as Mulhorandi dark-and a smoke, for Efusio offered a wonderful variety of balaumo to be put into a pipe, including numerous fruit-infused blends, such as cherry, apricot, and apple. Grozier felt in his pocket for his long-stemmed pipe and smiled.

The head of House Talricci picked a table to one side of the patio, but he put his back to the street and settled into the chair and relaxed. It wasn't long before a plump serving girl with olive skin and lustrous black hair approached.

"Sir?" was all she said, and Grozier had to stop for a moment to admire her very black eyes.

The man finally shook himself back to the matter at hand and said, "Just a cup of Tethyrian tea and some balaumo. Uh, peach and grapewood, if you have it."

"Yes, sir," the serving girl replied and scurried away.

Grozier stretched his legs out under the table and waited, letting the mid-morning breeze ruffle his hair. The warm dampness of the day before was gone, replaced by a cooler, dryer bit of weather. The last vestiges of spring still clung to the Reach, appearing on occasion.

The girl brought Grozier his tea and a small silver bowl filled with the pipeweed for which he'd asked. He pressed a gold dinar into her hand and waved her away, then he began stuffing his pipe enthusiastically. It had been a couple of days since he'd enjoyed a good smoke.

Are we all linked? came a voice in Grozier's head.

It was Bartimus.

Yes, Grozier responded. Am I the last?

You are, came a second voice, belonging to one of the two Houses in the alliance. We are all linked now. So, why the urgency? Why couldn't this wait? The voice held a hint of irritation, but Grozier ignored it.

The mercenary won't go away, he thought, sending his own irritation through the mental connection to the others. He is persistent, and the little trap Bartimus and I laid for him last night didn't work. I need other ideas.

I think you're devoting much too much time to him, a third voice chimed in, that of the individual of the third House. He will go away soon enough, when his company is called to duty again. The Grand Trabbar will see to that.

I don't think you understand, Grozier insisted. He is getting very close to finding out who was behind the incident in the alley, and I think he means to come after us, regardless of the revelations. He has his uncle involved, now.

There was a lengthy pause then the second voice suggested, We need to threaten him more openly. We need to send him a message he'll understand once and for all.

I agree, Grozier replied, but what will faze him? What can we hold over his head?

His family, the third voice said firmly. We make it clear that others around him may not survive his meddling.

That kind of tactic never works, Grozier responded, letting disappointment bleed into his thoughts. His kind always take that as a personal challenge to push back harder.

But he doesn't make the decisions for the family, the third voice said confidently. We know who does. This is simply a perfect excuse to finally rein him in, forcefully if necessary.

Grozier considered the possibility.

Yes, he conceded after a moment. I think you're right.

Of course I'm right, the third voice said. You plan the threat, and I'll make sure we get the proper response from Hetta.

Done, Grozier said. And the uncle? All of Matrell's friends? What do we do about all of the aid he's receiving?

Let Lavant take care of that. Get a message to him, today if possible.

All right, Grozier replied. We're close, now. Remain patient.

Who's not patient? the second voice answered. Just take care of this. Do it tonight. Then everything will be in place.

Agreed. See you tonight, Grozier thought, then he told Bartimus to break the link.

When he was certain the mental connection with his business partners and his wizard had been eliminated, he smiled and lit his pipe.

Tonight, he thought, is going to stun them all.

Emriana didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, she was incensed that Uncle Dregaul had insisted that she remain in her rooms, with Jaleene to keep a watch on her, so that she wouldn't spoil any of the surprises for her party later that night. The girl was beside herself, wondering what Vambran had learned from Jithelle's mother. On the other hand, it was her sixteenth birthday, and the extravaganza being planned was making her almost wriggle in delight. She paced endlessly back and forth in her rooms, going from the patio to the foot of the bed and back again.

"Will you stop that?" Jaleene finally chided Emriana. "You're making me dizzy."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Em replied, full of exasperation. "I just can't stand all this waiting. And I hate being cooped up."

"It's no picnic being here with you, that's for sure," Jaleene muttered.

Emriana scowled at her maid, then she giggled.

"Come on," she said, "Give me some hints about what's going to happen tonight."

Jaleene shook her head vehemently.

"Please," Emriana begged, moving to sit down on the bed beside her companion. "Pretty please?"

"Mistress Emriana, even if I did know something-which I don't so quit asking-I wouldn't tell you. You get to be sixteen once in your life, and I'm not going to be the one who spoils anything for you. Trust me, you'll thank me later on."

"Highly doubtful," Emriana said, folding her arms beneath her breasts and pretending to pout.

She looked out of the corner of her eye to see if Jaleene was reacting, but the handmaiden was studiously ignoring her charge's attempts to guilt her into revealing tidbits.

"All I'm saying is you're going to be amazed," Jaleene said. "Don't you remember the big to-do for your brother when he turned sixteen?"

"Jaleene, I was nine. They made me go to bed halfway through the evening. You were the one who had to drag me back here, remember?"

Jaleene giggled in spite of herself.

"I tried to forget," she teased. "You were worse when you were that age than Quindy and Obiron are."

"Oh, be quiet," Emriana said playfully, then jumped up from the bed and began to pace again. "By Waukeen, I wish Vambran would get back here. I can hardly stand this."

"And what would you do if I never came back?" Vambran said, suddenly standing in the doorway off her patio.