"Get up here, Vambran," Evester said. "I'm not kidding."

All around him, Vambran heard the murmurs and grumbles of his men, angry at the situation and talking bravado about knocking Evester down a peg or two or giving him a good swift sword in the gut, but Evester had them bested, and everyone knew it. The lieutenant eyed Denrick, who was grinning malevolently at him, and he nodded to the men holding the prisoner. Understanding, they let the younger man go, and he jerked his arms free indignantly, then turned and demanded his sword. Reluctantly, the soldier holding it handed it over.

"You see?" Denrick said to Vambran. "In the end, you can't beat us. You're a fool to even try. The city belongs to us, Vambran. Not to the old fools who hoard their gold, or the small-time thinkers like your uncle or my mother. Only people such as Evester and me truly understand how to wield the power of coin."

"I hardly think it takes a lot of brains to take the cowardly road, Denrick," Vambran said. "And you're not out of here free and clear, yet. So I wouldn't go flapping my mouth off too much if I were you."

Denrick just glared at Vambran, who gestured for the younger man to go first. Denrick limped forward, taking the lead, and the pair of them began to ascend to the top floor.

When Vambran arrived, Evester was standing behind Emriana, holding the blade to her throat once more and using her as a shield.

"First, you're going to heal him, Vambran. Then, you're going to let him tie your hands behind your back, and the four of us will walk out of here."

"And go where, Ev? The whole city will be hunting for you after this. There's no place you can retreat to and still sit atop your ill-gotten perches."

"Nonetheless, you're going to do exactly what I just said, or I will slit her throat and throw her over the side. Do you understand me?"

"Sure, Ev," Vambran said, defeat making his words quiet. He knelt down, ready to examine the puncture wound in Denrick's leg. He cast one last glance up, about to tell Evester that he would cooperate and be their hostage if they would let Emriana go right then, when he spotted the faintest hint of movement from behind his older brother.

Xaphira.

Apparently, Denrick hadn't seen her, so Vambran quickly averted his eyes downward again, not wanting to betray the potential rescue. He directed his face toward the end of the bolt still rammed in Denrick's leg, but he watched carefully out of the corner of his eye for some sort of telltale sign that she was acting. He saw her take the first subtle step toward Evester, and he reacted.

Reaching out, Vambran gripped the end of the bolt and slammed it sideways, twisting at the same time. The howl of pain as Denrick stumbled backward was loud and piercing. The younger man staggered backward, reaching feebly toward the pain, as Vambran stood up again and turned back toward his brother.

Evester held a look of shock on his face as he watched what Vambran had just done, and he let his hold on Emriana sag slightly, dropping his guard. Xaphira timed it perfectly. She stepped in behind the man, snaking her arm underneath the one of his that held the dagger and leveraging it out, away from his hostage's face. At the same time, she shifted her weight under his, shoving him up off the ground with her hip and spinning him over backward. He landed with a thud on the balcony, well away from Emriana.

Emriana sank down to the tiles, for she was still bound hand and foot. Vambran moved to her, ready to help free her, when her eyes grew wide.

"Look out!" she cried, and Vambran instinctively dived to one side as Denrick's sword whistled over his head.

The force of the strike sent Denrick staggering forward, for his leg had no strength in it, and he could not easily recover his balance. He stumbled forward, right at Emriana. She rolled backward, even as he came at her, and Vambran could see what the heir of House Pharaboldi was about to do. The lieutenant willed his body to lunge forward, to stop Denrick's forward progress, but he was much too slow. There was nothing he could do to stop Denrick from slipping his blade right into Em's chest as he fell on top of her.

Curiously, though, the wounded man didn't reach the girl. As he fell, she rolled backward, bringing her feet, which were still tied together, up under him. She used his momentum against him, hoisting him high and shoving as hard as she could, sending him completely past her, over her, and toward the railing.

Vambran watched the sequence as if time had slowed down somehow. Denrick, still flying forward, was headed over the railing. He was twisted awkwardly, unable to stop himself, and he flailed about desperately for something to grab hold of, anything at all that would keep him from falling to his death.

The one thing that was there, within reach, was Evester. Somehow, Vambran's brother had managed to get to his feet and was circling with Xaphira, when Denrick went tumbling by.

The oldest son of Ladara Matrell never saw his companion coming, but Denrick managed to grab hold of his shirt. As he fell over the railing, Denrick hung on to Evester, refusing to let go, and the force of his momentum pulled Evester right over the side with him. The last thing Vambran saw of his brother was one arm, fingers extended, grasping futilely for the banister. There was a shriek of terror, and a moment later, one large thump that Vambran felt even at the top of the house.

"I knew Dregaul was beginning to slip into a maniacal notion that any business deal, no matter how questionable, whether financial or ethical, was all right," Hetta said.

They were all gathered in the sitting room. The elderly matriarch of the Matrell family was in her favorite chair, and Ladara was beside her, as usual, though Emriana's mother was obviously more subdued than usual. The girl couldn't really blame her; she had lost a son and a grandson, after all.

After Denrick and Evester's deaths, the rest of the family had been found, unharmed, locked in the cell in the basement. Marga had not handled her husband's death well, though in the end, after some magical calming ministrations from Kovrim, she at least began to see that she and her twin children had probably been spared a lifetime of misery under a tyrant's rule. Still, she was left in a quandary. Her own House was devastated, just as House Pharaboldi was. Her only true family seemed to be the Matrells. The three of them were resting quietly in their rooms while the rest of the family discussed how to honor their dishonorable dead.

"But I had no idea he was teaching those same reprehensible qualities to Evester," Hetta continued quietly, sadly. "If I had, I would have taken control back a long time ago."

"But Grandmother," Emriana asked, "why in the world didn't you do that anyway?"

"Because I needed Dregaul to do something that would get him in over his head," the woman replied. "I needed to be able to show to everyone, you included, that I was still sharp and that he was the one unfit for running the family business."

Emriana nodded, though she didn't see how Hetta would think that anyone wouldn't trust her. To her, the woman seemed to have the most sensible head on her shoulders of all of them.

"That's not the only reason you let it go on, though, is it?" Xaphira said, sitting off to one side and studying the family.

Emriana still hadn't gotten used to the idea that her long-lost aunt had returned from her self-imposed exile. She had heard the story about the woman's disappearance only a couple of days before, and yet there she was, in the flesh, and Emriana had a chance to get to know a new member of her family. The thought excited her, especially after the conversation she and Hetta had had. Such a newfound mentor, coupled with the loss of Dregaul and Evester, caused the girl's emotions to be in turmoil at the moment