The young ponytailed dwarf did as he was told, eyeing her with faint amusement.

"Mita, this is how you should beat biscuits." Kit took the bowl away from the kitchen helper and gave an expert demonstration. "And make sure the oven is hot enough before you put them in, or it won't matter if you mixed them right, they still won't turn out."

This was the type of work that Kit detested, but her years of virtually running the Majere household had left her with more than a few organizational and culinary skills. Anyway, if she got things running right, there would be less actual work for her to do.

Just then Piggott bustled into the kitchen, somewhat mollified by a good turn-out of breakfast customers, but ready from habit to explode. His eyes showed his surprise. Kit pulled the fat proprietor aside.

"After the rush, I'd like to talk to you about staying on here for a while and for a price."

Piggott, surveying the improved organization in his kitchen, nodded.

Mita, overhearing the request, smiled to himself.

Piggott agreed to pay Kit a small amount every week, in addition to room and board for herself and Cinnamon.

Bringing some order to the chaotic kitchen proved well within Kit's capabilities. Mita showed himself to be a willing and able apprentice cook. And Paulus Trowbridge, stoic about his chores, was a good worker. With a smile and a joke at Piggott's expense, Kit could keep both kitchen helpers in good humor while prodding them to move faster.

The money did not add up to much, but if Kit was going to be forced to return to Solace, at least she wouldn't have to slink back, penniless. Laying in the barn at night after a tiring day, Kit often found herself thinking about her home, and more particularly, her twin brothers. She wondered how Raist was doing in the mage school and whether Caramon was watching over him well. She savored these weeks away, but she had almost made up her mind to go back.

If Kit had had any idea where her father was, she would have gone there, or at least in that direction. During her first days at the inn, Kit found many excuses to go out into the dining room where she always looked over the crowd carefully, watching for a familiar face-Gregor's, or even Ursa's. There was never anyone she had seen nor met before. Now and then a grizzled warrior or roving Knight of Solamnia wandered into the place. Kitiara always contrived to wait on their tables. And if she could get a word in edgewise, she asked them if they had ever heard of a particular someone, the legendary mercenary, Gregor Uth Matar.

Some had heard of Gregor, or at least they thought so, but no one had any information that was reliable or up-to-date. After a while, Kit stopped asking.

At first Kit overheard much talk about the ambush of Sir Gwathmey's payroll expedition. Bits and pieces of information as well as unfounded gossip kept travelers and the locals buzzing. But the upshot was that none of the perpetrators had been identified, nobody arrested or captured. The dead man's fiancйe, across the mountains, had offered an astronomical sum-people said it was three times the amount of the robbery-for revenge against the murderers. Lady Mantilla had turned to dark magic, it was whispered, and employed a veritable army of spies and mages, as yet to no avail.

Kit stuck close to Piggott's place; indeed, she had little time or interest in poking around Stumptown. She figured it was wise not to attract attention. Beck's sword remained hidden among some bushes where no one ventured.

After a while, the rumors died down, until nobody talked about the payroll robbery anymore. Kit gave up hope of ever tracking down Ursa and getting her fair share of the booty. The episode seemed increasingly distant to her. Without the responsibility of caring for her half-brothers for the first time in years, and with a little change in her pockets, Kit gloried in her independence.

The companionship offered by Mita also helped make her time pleasurable there. She regarded the lad as the equivalent of another younger brother, though in age he was her peer. Although she suspected that Mita saw her more romantically, Kit was thankful he never said anything nor acted on that mistaken impulse. They slept within yards of each other every night, platonically, comfortable in each other's company.

One hazy afternoon when they were together in the courtyard, searching for eggs laid by Piggott's hens, Kitiara asked Mita why he limped.

"Don't know really," he said, averting his eyes because she had raised a delicate subject. "I always did. I used to live not too far from here with my grandmother. She tended a herd of goats to help keep food on the table. When I used to ask her how come, she wouldn't tell me. She'd just shake her head and look away, sadlike. Piggott said he supposed a big goat of hers must have stepped on my leg one day, 'cause of this."

Mita pulled up his pant leg to reveal a curved imprint on his lower right leg, the one he favored. Kit peered at the scar, but wasn't at all sure it looked like a hoof mark.

"What did your parents say when you asked them?"

"I didn't ask. Didn't ever know 'em. First I remember, I was living with Grandma."

Kit was standing close to Mita, and when her eyes met his, she had the oddest sensation he was going to try and kiss her. But the moment passed. How different from El-Navar's bold assurance, Kitiara couldn't help thinking to herself.

Piggott was not quite as gentlemanly as Mita, and more than once the fat, greasy owner had planted himself squarely in front of Kitiara, leering and saying something offensive. But Piggott never pressed his point when Kitiara brushed him off. He knew she always carried a small knife on her, concealed inside her tunic.

The one time Piggott had leaned too close, his beery breath hot in her face, Kit had slipped the knife out and pressed its tip against his prominent gut. "Well, aren't we rough and ready," Piggott had cracked, but the menace was gone from his voice, and his eyes darted around nervously as he looked for a way to retreat without losing face.

Piggott's mood was habitually foul. At times he would cuff Mita on the back of the head and berate him; or if the dwarf, who was part of their alliance, happened to drop a plate or come in late, Piggott would dock everybody's pay.

One morning, late in the summer, Kitiara woke having made up her mind to leave. Not because of Piggott, really- she could handle him-but her prospects for finding adventure in Stumptown seemed dim. She had enough money; she'd had her time away from Solace; so now she would return home.

Right away she told Mita, and he astonished her by saying that he would go with her. "I'm sick of Piggott's bullying," he declared. "I've got quite a bit of money saved up, and I'm going with you."

"What about your grandmother?" Kit asked. "Won't she miss you?"

"Oh, she died three years ago," said Mita matter-of-factly. "That's how come I decided to move in here and work for Piggott in the first place."

Kitiara said that, no, she was going home to help take care of her brothers, Mita couldn't come and stay with her, and he wouldn't like Solace anyway. Mita responded that he would go with her partway, then, and turn south toward Haven somewhere along the road.

Kit shrugged. Mita grew so excited about it that Kitiara caught some of his mood and became enthusiastic, too. Together they scurried around the barn, beginning to organize and pack their scant belongings.

Later, inside the kitchen, before the breakfast customers showed up in force, Kitiara and Mita were whispering about their plans, laughing, when a hand clapped Kitiara on the back. She turned to see Paulus giving her an unaccustomed glowering look.