"Doing what?"

"The same thing you do during the day. Show me the slaves."

The watchman hesitated. "That's all?"

"Yes."

"Give me the coin."

Bareris handed over the coin. The guard bit it, pocketed it, then led him into the barracoon, a shadowy, echoing place that smelled of unwashed bodies. The bard felt as if he were all but vibrating with impatience. It took an effort to keep from demanding that his guide quicken the pace.

In fact, they reached the long open room where the slaves slept soon enough. The wan yellow light of a single lantern just barely alleviated the gloom. The watchman called for his charges to wake and stand, kicking those who were slow to obey.

Confident of his ability to recognize Tammith even after six years, even in the dark, Bareris scrutinized the women.

Then his guts twisted, because she wasn't here. Tracking her, he'd discovered that since becoming a slave, she'd passed in and out of the custody of multiple owners. The merchant who'd bought her originally had passed her on to a caravan master, a middleman who made his living moving goods inland from the port. He then handed her off to one of the many slave traders of Tyraturos.

Who had obviously sold her in his turn, with Bareris once again arriving too late to buy her out of bondage. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself he hadn't failed. He simply had to follow the trail a little farther.

He turned toward the watchman. "I'm looking for a particular woman. Her name is Tammith Iltazyarra, and I know you had her here within the past several days, maybe even earlier today. She's young, small, and slim, with bright blue eyes. She hasn't been a slave for very long: Her black hair is still short, and she doesn't have old whip scars on her back. You almost certainly sold her to a buyer who wanted a skilled potter. Or… or to someone looking to purchase an uncommonly pretty girl."

The watchman sneered. Maybe he discerned how frantic Bareris was to find Tammith, and as was often the case with bullies, another person's need stirred his contempt.

"Sorry, friend. The wench was never here. I wish she had been. Sounds like I could have had a good time with her before we moved her out."

Bareris felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over his head. "This is the house of Kanithar Chergoba?"

"Yes," said the guard, "and now that you see your trollop isn't here, I'll show you the way out of it."

Indeed, Bareris could see no reason to linger. He'd evidently deviated from Tammith's trail at some point, though he didn't understand how that was possible. Had someone lied to him along the way, and if so, why? What possible reason could there be?

All he knew was his only option was to backtrack. Too sick at heart to speak, he waved his hand, signaling his willingness for the watchman to conduct him to the exit, and then a realization struck him.

"Wait," he said.

"Why? You've had your look."

"I paid gold for your time. You can spare me a few more moments. I've heard your master is one of the busiest slave traders in the city, and it must be true. This room can house hundreds of slaves, yet I only see a handful."

The watchman shrugged. "Sometimes we sell them off faster than they come in."

"I believe you," Bareris said, "and I suspect your stock is depleted because someone bought a great many slaves at once. That could be why you don't remember Tammith. You never had a reason or a chance to give her any individual attention."

The watchman shook his head. "You're wrong. It's been months since we sold more than two or three at a time."

Bareris studied his face and was somehow certain he was lying, but what did he have to gain by dissembling? By the silver harp, had they sold Tammith to a festhall or into some other circumstance so foul that he feared to admit it to a man who obviously cared about her?

The bard struggled to erase any trace of rancor from his features. "Friend, I know I don't look it in these worn, dusty clothes with my hair grown out like an outlander's, but I'm a wealthy man. I have plenty more gold to exchange for the truth, and I give you my word that however much it upsets me, I won't take my anger out on you."

The guard screwed up his features in an almost comical expression of deliberation, then said, "Sorry. The girl wasn't here. We didn't sell off a bunch of slaves all at once. You're just wrong about everything."

"I doubt it. You paused to consider before you spoke. If you don't have anything to tell me, what was there to think about? You were weighing greed against caution, and caution came out the winner. Well, that's all right. I can appeal to your sense of self-preservation if necessary." With one smooth, sudden, practiced motion intended to demonstrate his facility with a blade, Bareris whipped his sword from its scabbard. The guard jumped back, and a couple of the slaves gasped.

"Are you crazy?" stammered the guard, his hand easing toward the whip on his belt. "You can't murder me just because I didn't tell you what you want to hear!"

"I admit," Bareris replied, advancing with a duelist's catlike steps, "my conscience will trouble me later, but you're standing between me and everything I've wanted for the past six years. Or since I was eight, really. That's enough to make me set aside my scruples. Oh, and snatch for the whip if you must, but in all my wanderings, I never once saw rawhide prevail against steel."

"If you hurt me, the watch will hang you."

"I'll be out of the city before anyone knows you're dead, except these slaves, and I doubt they love you well enough to raise the alarm."

"I'll shout for help."

"It won't arrive in time. I'm almost within sword's reach already."

The watchman whirled and lunged for the door. Bareris sang a quick phrase, sketched an arcane figure in the air with his off hand, and expelled the air from his lungs. Engulfed in a plume of noxious vapor, the guard stumbled and doubled over retching. Holding his breath to avoid a similar reaction, Bareris grabbed the man and pulled him out of the invisible but malodorous fumes. He then dumped the guard on his back, poised his sword at his breast, and waited for his nausea to subside.

When it did, he said, "This is your last chance. Tell me now, or I'll kill you and look for someone else to question. You're not the only lout on the premises."

"All right," said the slaver, "but please, you can't tell anyone who told you. They said we weren't to talk about their business."

"I swear by the Binder and his Hand," Bareris said. "Now who in the name of the Abyss are you talking about?"

"Red Wizards."

At last Bareris understood the watchman's reluctance to divulge the truth. Everyone with even a shred of prudence feared offending members of the scarlet orders. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"They-the mages and their servants-came in the middle of the night, just like you. They bought all the stock we had, just the way you figured. They told Chergoba that if we kept our mouths shut, they'd be back to buy more, but if we prattled about them, they'd know, and return to punish us."

"What were the wizards' names?"

"They didn't say."

"Where did they mean to take the slaves?"

"I don't know."

"Why did they want them?"

"I don't know! They didn't say and we had better sense than to ask. We took their gold and thought ourselves lucky they paid the asking price. But if they'd offered only a pittance, or nothing at all, what could we have done about it?"

Bareris stepped away from the watchman and tossed him another gold piece. "I'll let myself out. Don't tell anyone I was here, or that you told me what you have, and you'll be all right." He started to slide his sword back into its worn leather scabbard then realized there was one more question he should ask. "To which order did the wizards belong?"