Friday, September 14, 247

 

Two of the afternoon.

 

The remainder of this journal I will write in Dog cipher, to ensure the privacy of my notes and also so I may shorten how much writing I need to do. Being in a new city, on a hunt, with a scent hound, there will be so much more detail to note down against my final report to my Lord Provost. I will need all the help I may get to keep my writing hand from falling off. I hope I will be able to read this later. The boat rises and falls sommat as I write, so that my reed's point is less than steady on the page. I'm told it's worse on the sea, so I shouldn't complain. Rather, I pray that I will never go to sea. Then I brace myself, and continue to write of my day so far.

 

I was able to hire a cove to carry my trunk to the river. I walked along beside him, dressed like a citymot in a blue dress and veil, with Achoo on her leash at my side. Most citymots didn't wear a leather pack on their shoulders, but I wasn't about to let that pack go into my trunk. It held all that was important, but for my fire opal. That was in my free hand, its edges digging into my palm.

As ever, the docks were crowded and noisy. My trunk bearer followed Achoo and me around carts, mules, and men loaded down with anything money might buy. We dodged swinging cranes and overseers with whips until we came to Seven Dock, where the Green Mist was waiting. I saw Tomlan Goodwin right away, standing beside a pile of bundles and a big trunk. He waved cheerfully when he saw me.

I had my cove drop my trunk beside Goodwin's things and paid him off. Then I turned to Master Tomlan. He was down on one knee, rubbing Achoo's belly while my hound wriggled on her back. That's Master Tomlan Goodwin for you. Even I relax around him. He's got a broad countryman's face, with brown hair edged with white around the ears. His eyes are a bright, bright blue, filled with humor, and there is always a smile on his mouth. He's solid built, due to being a master carpenter, but the years have put a small paunch on him. This morning he wore a fine blue wool tunic with yellow and red embroideries, red leggings, and sturdy leather shoes.

"All ready to travel, then, Beka?" he asked me. "My Clary's off giving the captain your passage tickets. I packed yez both a basket, so you'll not starve on the way. These cargo boats take their own time."

I smiled at him. You have to smile at Master Tomlan, he's that friendly. Mayhap that's why he and Goodwin have been together these many years. It would take an easygoing man to bear her and her tongue. I near worship Goodwin, but she's not easy to share time with.

"She tells me you're nicely healed after those lice jumped you," Master Tomlan went on. "I've no pity for them getting their heads knocked in, none at all!"

I looked at him, startled. "But it was murder, Master Tomlan."

"Some folk need murdering," he said coolly.

"Tom, that's enough. Cooper's a good servant of the law." Goodwin had returned. For a moment I could do little but gape. She was handsome in a dark cherry dress with long, close sleeves. The dress was cut to her ankles and girded about her waist. She wore a round cape for river travel. It was made of dark brown wool matched both to her dress and to the strong breeze down on the water, and held at her shoulder with a brass clasp made like a chain. Even in cityfolk dress she couldn't get away from being a Dog.

Her short black hair was tucked under a white veil and round red cap. The cap was stitched over with yellow and black embroideries in the shapes of eclipse moons, warning folk she was a magistrate in the Goddess's courts.

"Cooper, you'll freeze in just a dress," she greeted me. "Haven't you got one of these curst bothersome capes?"

"In my trunk," I said. "I'm not cold."

"I hope you can carry that trunk if we can't find a carter when we get there," Goodwin said.

"Love, there'll be plenty of stout lads willing to carry your things," Tomlan said, wrapping an arm like a leg of beef around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "She's always cross on the road," he told me.

To my startlement Goodwin threw her arms around his waist. "What will I do without you, Tom?" she asked, her voice gone all funny.

I turned away. I didn't want to see her like this, or him, for that matter. I understood it in Tunstall and Lady Sabine. They'd met little more than a year ago and still had some kick in their gallops. But surely Goodwin and Master Tomlan were well past this sort of thing by now.

Three river dodgers of a more respectable sort than I was used to came striding down the docks toward us. "Are these your goods, then, mistress?" the one in the lead asked. "Pick what you'll need on board and we'll stow the rest. We need to shove off soon."

Since they'd come from the Green Mist, I stepped forward. I didn't want them seeing Goodwin acting, well, odd. "I'm with her," I said, taking the basket from the pile. I also kept her leather pack. The weight told me our coin was in it. "The rest can go, with my trunk, too."

The talker looked at Achoo. "Tell me the hound is stayin' on land where she belongs."

"She goes with us." That sounded like the Clary Goodwin I knew. "She'll stick to our skirts, too. You never mind about the hound. Beka, what have you got? My pack – good. And that basket."

"Don't waste my cooking, woman," Master Tomlan said. He kissed me on the cheek. "Keep an eye on my lass, will you, Beka? Keep her from harm."

I actually heard myself giggle, which is what happens to a person when she wears skirts, I swear. The idea of me saving Clara Goodwin was too rich to stop me from some kind of laughter. "We'll do fine, Master Tomlan," I told him.

"Travel safe and travel well, both of yez," he said, one hand on Goodwin's shoulder, one hand on mine. "Mithros shield you, Goddess heal you." He squeezed my shoulder and hers and left us.

The river dodgers had carried our things aboard the Green Mist during our goodbyes. Goodwin and I hoisted our packs on our shoulders, while I carried the basket and Achoo's leash.

Like any child of the Lower City, I'd spent plenty of my days down here, listening to the river dodgers talk about their work. I knew this ship, and others of its construction, was a shallow-bottomed craft, with sails angled to catch any bit of breeze. I know the prevailing winds come out of the west here, so the voyage to the port is slow. Those who can afford to do so ride or go by cart over land. Them with time to spare don't mind taking the boats, and them with large cargoes prefer it. From the talk of the crew I learned Mist was well loaded with crates, sacks, and bales in the hull, and more on the deck.

Already some of our fellow passengers had got up a dice game and a card game, using bales of tanned hides for table and seats. Goodwin and I chose a place upwind of the hides, on some crates destined for a bookseller's shop in Blue Harbor.

Barely had I gotten myself situated on my crate when a bird came hurtling down from the sky. It attacked, slapping my head, my face, my hands when I put them up to defend myself! Finally the crackbrained beast plopped onto my lap and relieved itself of a walnut-sized dollop of dung.

Goodwin laughed so hard that she wept.

Slapper stood on my knee, bracing his clubbed foot. He glared up at me with crazed yellow eyes.

"You fen-sucked, puny claybrain, what in the gods' names are you doing?" I cried, seizing the bird and lifting him. "I ought to kill you!"

He got a wing free and hit me across the bridge of my nose so hard my eyes watered. I shook him.

"That's no way to treat the god's messenger," Goodwin said between gasps.

Achoo, wagging her tail, barked. It sounded like she was agreeing with my partner.

"God's messenger be blowed," I muttered. "I'll message him clean back to the Peaceful Realms!"

Goodwin scooped the dollop of pigeon dung from my knee with a handkerchief. Then she poured cold water from her flask over the spot. I squeaked.

"You don't want the stain to set," she told me with a straight face. "I think he's upset that you were going to leave him behind." She began to chuckle again.

"You go nowhere if I wring your stinking neck," I told Slapper. "I haven't a bite of food for you. I'll have to buy it in Port Caynn!" I threw the curst annoying bird into the air.

Goodwin picked up the cloth tucked over the top of the basket, revealing fresh-baked rolls. She handed me one. "I'd start tearing it up, if I were you, Cooper."

Once Slapper's belly was full, Goodwin looked around. We were on the far side of the river, having passed crossways over most of its two hundred yards' width. Now the crew spread more sail. We were in the deeper channel on the north side, near the western edge of the city. Here flowed the large boats headed for the coast. The ones bound inland had the center deep channel, while smaller boats ran on either side.

Ahead on both sides of the river lay the forested edges of the hills. Nobles hunted up there, and kept fancy lodges. The kingdom's great roads passed among those trees. I could see the one that ran along the northern edge of the Olorun, heavy with traffic at this time of day. Within a mile it disappeared into the forest. The southern road lay in the open for ten miles or so, passing through a good-sized village before it wound up through the trees and the hills. That was the way I had traveled with my lord on my two earlier trips to the port.

The folk here painted their sails bright colors, so I felt surrounded by butterflies. Some of the small boats were actually floating shops, carrying fruit, vegetables, cooked meat, cloth, trinkets, even magic charms and potions. They slowed to offer food and goods for sale to them on other craft. A few were fishing boats, going for what catches they could bring to the city's tables. Others were couriers flying merchant, bank, or royal flags. The larger ships had their own banners, from distant lands or Tortall itself. Though they had them, the slave ships needed no banners. Their stink made all of us draw back, our hands over our noses.

Goodwin soon tired of the parade of vessels. "Watch our things," she ordered. She wandered over to the dice game like any bored citywoman. The boat's slight rocking was enough to make my gut uneasy, so I was happy to stay where I was. Achoo sprawled beside Goodwin's pack, her feet twitching in a dream. Her sores were almost entirely healed. Slapper had taken himself up the arm on a mast and was grooming himself.

One of the river dodgers came over and hunkered on the deck beside me. "That was a sight, when yon bird came after you," he told me, pointing up at Slapper. "What was that about?" He was a short, stocky cove, two inches less than my height, of maybe twenty or twenty-one year, with nice eyes.

I looked down, glad the veil slid forward to hide my face a little. "He's a pet," I said, cursing my uneasiness at talking to strangers when I am out of uniform. "I've no idea how he found me."

"Oh, they're clever birds, pigeons," he said in a friendly way. "My father bred 'em for messenger birds. Feed 'em from your hand twice or thrice, and they'll look to you ever after, 'less you're cruel to 'em. They can be trained t' remember places two hundred mile apart." He looked up at Slapper, who hacked at a dodger who needed to crawl out on the same cross-mast where he sat. "I don't suppose you can call 'im away? My mate'll knock 'im bum over beak off that yardarm."

"Is that what it's called?" I asked, curious. "Yardarm?" I raised my voice. "Slapper! I'll wring your scrawny neck if you don't get off there!"

Slapper always preferred the enemy he knew. He took off and dove at me. I raised my hands to protect my face. Achoo looked at Slapper and barked. The crazed bird threw up his wings, stooped, and landed on a crate beside Achoo. There he strutted, limping on his bad foot and cooing angrily until he settled and returned to his grooming.

My new friend grinned. "Slapper, is it? Good name." He chuckled softly.

"Marco! Marco, there's work to be done, and not the kind you do with pretty mots!" roared the captain.

Marco, it seems, was my companion. He winked at me and trotted off to see what the captain needed, while I tried to sink into the crate and everyone around us laughed. I hate it when folk say I'm pretty. Pretty means no one takes a mot Dog serious.

We moved into what the river dodgers call the Little Lake, a broad open basin between Corus and Port Caynn. Hills covered with trees ringed it. There were still plenty of boats, but now they had more room to move. Ours slid to the right, keeping close to the side channels. The dice game went on. Others had gotten out backgammon boards and cards. They drew folk who wagered on their games. I would have liked to play backgammon, having learned from my lord, but it was more important to watch our things. It would be a poor start to our hunt if a riverboat foist got his fambles on our papers and our coin.

Instead I called Achoo to me and gave her a proper grooming, head to toe. Her sores were now only pink, tender flesh, as were her welts. I worked around them carefully, not wanting to hurt the new-healed injuries. Achoo loved the brush and comb. She lay splayed on her back when I asked her to turn over, all four paws in the air, pointing different ways, her tongue lolling from her mouth. I'd never seen a creature so happy as she was.

"It takes so little to please you, silly thing," I said, brushing her belly. She'd had at least one litter of pups, mayhap two, but the sign of the closed womb was etched deep into her collar. Some previous handler had not wanted Achoo to have more.

"We'll talk about pups down the road," I whispered as I fluffed her chest fur with my fingers. "When I swap leather insignia for bronze and can afford bigger lodgings, mayhap."

Up by Goodwin's dice game, one of the players stood and stretched, then fumbled in his belt purse. "You've the better of me, mistress," he told Goodwin, handing her some coins. "A poor farm lad like me had best watch himself!"

Someone came up behind me on the deck. I could sense him there, though he'd made no sound. Now the cove leaned against the crate just behind my shoulder. Achoo stirred. I put my hand on her to keep her calm.

"Your companion had best watch out," a boyish voice said close to my ear. "That noisy fellow is no farm lad."

I looked around, shielding my eyes from the sun, to no avail. The new cove's face was in shadow. He wore a gold hoop earring and he had good shoulders, though they weren't heavy.

"Sorry," he told me, and jumped to the deck so he could face me proper. Now I could see him clear. It was Dale Rowan, the light-haired cove who'd helped us in the Bread Riot. I noticed now that his eyes were gray and large, with a deal of humor in them. He had brown hair streaked with blond, a small brown beard in the shape of a crescent, and brown lashes longer than mine. His clothes were good, yet simple enough for a river voyage on a crude boat – a tunic of autumn brown with hem embroideries of pears and grapevines, yellow leggings, and leather shoes that laced up over his ankles.

He frowned. "Don't I know you, Mistress – ?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'know,'" I said. "Where's your friend Hanse? Or Steen, for that matter?"

He looked harder at me. "They went back to Port Caynn yesterday, and how would a nice young maid like you know – Goddess tears and Crooked God's teeth, you're Cooper, the Dog." He put out his hand, grinning at me. "If it hadn't been for those ghost eyes of yours, I might still be guessing. Hello, hello! I was going to call on you at Jane Street when I came back the next time! I see you're none the worse for wear. How's Guardsman Tunstall?"

"Laid up," I said. "Off duty for at least another couple of weeks, and grumpy with it."

Dale was nodding. "That's the problem with old Dogs – the good ones, anyway. You can only get so many healings before it's just not as complete as the first. What about Guards-woman Goodwin?"

I smiled at him. "You were looking at her."

His brows shot into sharp peaks over his eyes. "Wait – that's Goodwin?"

"She looks different in cityfolk garb, doesn't she?" I asked slyly.

Dale turned back to me. "So do you. Pretty, but different."

I waved the compliment off. "What makes you say that cove she's gaming with is no poor farm lad?"

"Him? He gambles all up and down the river and rooks all the sheeplings that drop into his fambles." Dale shook his head, contempt on his face.

"What?" I asked. I knew rook was "cheat," but I didn't spend much time in the gambling dens. I usually track tougher game.

"Cheating all the cityfolk and countryfolk who drop into his hands," Dale said, looking at the gamblers. He smiled at me. "What are you and Goodwin doing on the river?" He found a seat beside Achoo. "And who is this?"

"Achoo is a scent hound. I'm her handler." Slapper, dozing in the sun atop my trunk, stirred and fluffed his wings. "And that over there is Slapper." The cross-grained creature went back to sleep. I think if I hadn't claimed him, he would have flown at me again. "Me and Goodwin are assigned to Port Caynn for a while, to study their Dogs' methods, since Tunstall's laid up." I wondered if I should say my lord wanted to get me out of the way of enemies, and decided that was the sort of thing he ought to hear from others.

Dale grinned. "Are you, then? There's a bit of luck! Where do you mean to stay?"

I shrugged.

"We've no word yet. They'll let us know. It's good to see you, Master – ?" Goodwin had returned, her belt purse bulging.

"Dale Rowan," he said, offering her his hand. "It's good to see you again, Goodwin. I was asking Guardswoman Cooper how your partner Tunstall was doing."

"Master Rowan," Goodwin said. "Will you take lunch with us? My man packed enough for an army. Cooper, open up that basket."

"Call me Dale, Guardswoman," he suggested, smiling at her.

As I spread the cloth that protected the basket, Goodwin nudged Achoo aside and folded herself into a tailor's seat on a crate. "Then you'd best call her Beka and me Clary, off duty, at least. It'll be good for Cooper to know someone in Port Caynn. I've friends in town, but she's only been there twice. I doubt she'll get on with the older folk I know."

"I'd be happy to take Beka around, if she doesn't object," Dale said. "I confess, I had hopes in that direction."

I stopped in the midst of setting out pasties, about to protest, then remembered I would have to go about the town to obey my orders. The fact that Dale was glad to take me about made me ashamed, because I couldn't go with him honestly. I'd be there looking for colesmiths and those passing coles, of which he might even be one. I would have been glad to see him again for his own sake, with no secrets between us.

I glanced up. He was smiling at me with those lovely gray eyes all alight. I gulped and opened some wrapped sausages with fingers that trembled a little.

"I'm shocked you walked away from Arval with a full purse," Dale told Goodwin when the silence went too long. "He doesn't usually let folk leave the game before they've lost all they've won back to him."

Goodwin smiled cruelly. "I pleaded an errand of nature and gave him the slip. Mayhap he's used to countryfolk who don't recognize those dicer's calluses on his fingers."

Dale held up his hands for her to inspect. He has very nice hands with long, elegant fingers. I do like a cove with fine hands. "I have a gaming cove's calluses, too, Clary."

She looked him in the eye. "Do you cheat, then?" she asked bluntly.

Dale laughed. He laughed, at Goodwin when she was being her toughest! "I don't have to," he said. "The odds are in my favor if I play the games right. The bones fall so many ways every so often. If they're honest, and I keep my wits about me, I've a good idea what my odds are."

He talked dice games with Goodwin as we made a good meal on what Tomlan had packed. Then the boat's captain took Dale away for a backgammon game.

Goodwin watched me as I packed up. "He's got a lot of charm. He might also be one of the Rats we seek."

I looked at her. "Do you believe I'm a fool, Goodwin?" I asked her. I confess, I was hurt she might think it.

She sighed. "No. Your life might be easier if you were. A fool for love is happier than a Dog with a heart that's all leather." She stretched. "Take a walk around the deck, Cooper."

I did as ordered, Achoo bearing me company off of her leash. When I found a nook along the rail between two stacks of barrels, I stopped for a moment to look at the river and the trees. To think that people live all their lives out here, far from the people and business of Corus! I think I could go mad, staying more than a short walk from the markets, without the Common to dance on, or the temples and the festivals to ease my eyes when I tire of the everyday sights.

A hound's yip and a mot's angry screech brought me back to the moment. I'd thought she was used to me enough to stay close. I had thought wrong.

Away from my nook between the barrels, near the bow, Achoo had spotted a dragonfly. Just as I spotted her, she leaped for it, rising a good four feet in the air. I was impressed. The mot nearby was not. She shrank against the rail as Achoo flopped onto the stack of hides in front of her.

"Whose animal is this?" she cried. "It's going to attack! Save me!"

"Achoo!" I cried, running toward my hound. "Achoo, kemari!"

Achoo scrambled to her feet on the stacked leather and gave me a sheepish look. The woman inched further down the rail toward a well-muscled fellow passenger. "Save me!" she cried.

"Don' be a fool, woman!" he advised. "Her tail's waggin', or it was until this mot came." The other passengers who looked on laughed.

I wanted to kiss him, but I had to deal with Achoo. I pointed to the deck before me. "Kemari, right sarden now," I ordered.

Achoo snapped at the dragonfly that buzzed by her face. It was a halfhearted snap, meant more to show me that she was her own mistress than an attempt to grab the dragonfly.

"Achoo, either you sarden kemari or it's oatmeal for you for a week," I promised her.

I don't know if she understood my words or my tone, but she jumped from the stack of hides and slunk over to me, head down, tail between her legs. She knew she had been bad. I put the leash on her. She wagged her tail the tiniest bit, but I shook my head. "You know that you are supposed to come at my first order, never mind that you weren't supposed to leave me in the first place. Don't even try to cozen me."

"That creature is savage!" cried the mot. "I will report you to the captain for letting it loose on the boat!"

"Report us, then," I said. "But I doubt he'll be impressed by her viciousness in hunting dragonflies." I gave the leash a small tug. "Achoo, tumit." We left the woman, who was scolding the onlookers while they laughed at what I'd said. I doubted she would say aught to the captain, not when there seemed to be no one nearby who would support her.

When I went back to our things, I was shocked to find Goodwin busy over needlework. Of all the things I could imagine her doing to keep her hands busy, it had never occurred to me to think of her with needle in hand. Even more startling, she was at fine embroidery, the kind of elegant stitchery that was sewn onto sleeve and tunic hems and collars. I stood for a moment, watching her needle dart as she stitched a pattern of blood-red silk keys between two gold borders. This was expert work, not the kind of craft a woman might do for her own family.

I leaned in closer. Goodwin wore thin white silk gloves as she stitched. Of course she did. Her work-rough hands would catch at the fine threads if she left them uncovered.

"Cooper, if you're going to stand and stare, the least you could do is get in the way of the sun and provide me some shade," she told me without looking up. "Otherwise, sit down."

"I'd no notion," I said without thinking.

"It's not something I talk of, overmuch. It kept my mother happy, all right?" She said nothing more as I took my seat. Finally, as Achoo stretched out on the deck, Goodwin muttered, "As long as I could do this kind of work, Ma thought I might give over the nonsense of being a Dog and be a proper wife, selling needlework to make a bit of meat money on the side, as she did. After she passed on, I kept it up. It wasn't the coin so much, by then. More like the remembrance of her, and pride in the craft."

I watched Goodwin's needle dart fish-like, making the red keys rise from the black cloth of the strip she worked. "My sisters do fancy work," I said after a time. "Mostly for my lady Teodorie, though Lorine wants to make elegant clothes for the nobles."

"My lord mentioned once your sisters are fine seamstresses. And I've seen your clothes are always well turned out," Goodwin added, eyeing a line of stitches. "You do your own sewing?"

I nodded. "I do mending for all of us at Mistress Trout's," I said. "Kora does the laundering – well, she has gixies help with it, these days. Aniki sees that the cutlery and blades are sharp for her, Kora, Ersken, Rosto, and me. And she makes sure we've wood for our fires. It evens out."

"A good arrangement. Will you keep it up when they move into the Dancing Dove?" Goodwin snipped a thread and chose another for her needle. "Or will you move there with them?" She gave me a sharp look.

Achoo leaned against my side. "Oh, you're a good girl now?" I asked, and scratched her ears. To Goodwin I said, quiet-like, "I don't know, but I don't believe so. That inn's to be the new Court of the Rogue. It wouldn't be right, me living there. I'll stick to Mistress Trout's." I sighed. "'Twill be lonely, though."

Goodwin set her stitch. "Maybe some more Dogs will move in there. It's not like living across from the old Court of the Rogue, in the middle of the Cesspool. The Dancing Dove is part of the Lower City. You might have better company than you think."

I shrugged. I would worry about it when my friends moved.

We'd been silent for a time when she said, "You've been practicing the tale we will tell?" I nodded. I'd thought about it often when I couldn't sleep. "Good," Goodwin replied. "Keep doing that. I've been thinking about our work. There's another thing we should sniff for." I waited as she tied off a knot. Goodwin snipped off her thread, then set the needle down and flexed her hands before she went on. "Where do they get their silver? The brass is easy enough to come by. It's cheap. They can buy a few baskets of brassware in the markets, the stuff that's so battered none will use it, and they have what they need. But silver's another matter."

"It's only sold by the Silversmith's Bank," I said, remembering our lessons in colesmithing. "The melted silver is molded into ingots. Those are stamped by the Crown. It's illegal to have block silver without the stamp. Anyone who buys more than three ingots has to give their information to the bank."

Goodwin nodded. "It's the silversmiths the crown's Ferrets will be on first."

I nodded. The silver- and goldsmiths were always at the top of the list of suspects when the hunt was on for counterfeiters. One time in four a colesmith was a silver- or goldsmith, sad to say. "It may be a silversmith this time," I said.

"Oh, of a certainty." Goodwin was threading a fresh needle. "That's the quickest question answered. We'll know that within a week. But if it's not – where do the colesmiths get their silver? The mines are all controlled by the Crown. Keep your eyes and nose open, Cooper. If we find that source, we're close to breaking the whole ring. It's good odds we're after a ring, not a lone colesmith."

I agreed. "No one cove or mot could turn out this many coles alone."

"Exactly. We're looking for a gang. Don't worry, though, Cooper. The entire hunt doesn't rest on us, remember that. I've heard naught but good of Nestor Haryse. He'll have solid Dogs to help in Port Caynn, and we know who will be working on this thing in Corus. Once my lord convinces the Crown, we'll have the Ferrets on it, too." She looked at me and I nodded. I didn't say I wanted us to be the ones that brought down the game for our hunt. I'm sure she thought so just as much as me. She always says it's a wonder two such eager Dogs get on so well in one partnership.

"I think I know what the answer will be, but I will ask. Cooper, have you any notion of how to play this new card game, Gambler's Chance?" Goodwin asked, changing the colored threads in her needle.

I shook my head. "I've heard of it, but I haven't seen it played."

"Pox," Goodwin muttered. "I would have liked to learn it before I got to Port Caynn." She smiled crookedly at me. "I suppose I'll have to learn it on the fly." We continued to talk over small details of our hunt to come. The sun moved enough to provide us with shade as we made a list of the places we would go in Port Caynn.

The boat slowed on the lake. We had encountered the clog that began where the lake narrowed and the boats downriver approached the jam at the bridges. I took out my journal and began to write of the first half of this day, to have this much done before we report to the Deputy Provost.

Goodwin has noticed what I'm doing, but she says nothing. Her fingers dart over her work while her eyes go to dicing games on other boats nearby. Slapper flies now and then for amusement, returning for more food. Achoo sleeps.

I must finish. I see Dale coming back. At least the next two hours won't be boring, with him to talk to.

Ladyshearth Lodgings, Coates Lane

Midnight.

We did not reach Guards House, headquarters for the Deputy Lord Provost in Port Caynn, until well past four of the afternoon. We'd come in view of the Sunrise Bridge by one, but it had taken us two more hours to glide under that, then the Sunset Bridge, to tie up to the river docks, and see our things unloaded.

Before we parted from Dale, he'd left me with a list of five places where he might be found.

"And you'll remember them, right?" Goodwin asked as we watched him angle off through the crowds on the dock. "He's a gambler and he wants to further his acquaintance with you." She glanced at me. "We've begun already, Cooper."

"I'm not that fond of lying to folk," I told her. "Not telling someone I like why I'm really here is the same as lying."

"We're on a hunt, Cooper," she said. "When you're on a hunt, you do whatever it takes. Think back to the Opal Murders, and the Shadow Snake. This is the same. Folk will die of hunger if we don't nab these colemongers." Some cove shoved into her, not looking where he went. Goodwin shoved back. "Mind your step, cityman!" she ordered.

The cove turned on her, hand raised. Achoo was between them in an instant, her lips curled back from her teeth, her ears flat, her hackles up. I moved in next to her as me and Goodwin quickly checked our purses, in case he'd been a foist. Our coin was safe.

The cove spat on the dock and retreated.

"Beggin' yer pardon, mistress." A thick-built cove had come up to us. He touched his broad-brimmed hat. "Master Dale Rowan said yeh needed a carter t' carry yer things wherever ye're wishful t' go. He give me a siller noble for th' work, mistress." He grinned, showing blackened teeth. "Though ye're welcome t' give me a bit of extry consideration, like."

Goodwin eyed the cove. "Dale Rowan sent you. And how do you know him?"

The carter looked surprised. "Ev'ryone on the docks knows Master Dale, mistress. He's on an' off th' river once or twice a week some weeks, mayhap more. He's an open hand with th' coin, is Master Dale. Tips on the races, too."

"Free with coin and a gambler," Goodwin said, hands on hips. To look at her, you'd think she commanded a household and children for her day's work, and never missed a speck of dust. "His wife must be one discontented woman."

Our bluff cove laughed at that. "Master Dale's not married, so his coin's his own, and his nights too," he told us. "It'd take a curious kind o' mot t' keep his interest for more'n a week! Now, mistress, will yeh be havin' that help? I'd hate to give his siller back."

He gave us a funny look when Goodwin directed him to Guards House, but shrugged and said it was all the same to him.

Our carter negotiated several narrow streets behind the docks. At last we made the turn onto Kings Way, the broad, open way that was what the Olorun Road became when it entered Port Caynn. Three carts could pass down the street without hindrance, which was a fine thing, because it was thick with horsemen, sedan chairs, herdsmen taking their flocks home, vendors, and all kinds of folk on foot. There were far more people here from foreign places than in Corus. The sight of all those Yamani, Scanran, Copper Isle, and Carthaki faces and costumes took me back at first. There were also more Bazhir in the port city, come with horses, goats, and sheep to sell or looking for animals to buy. I'm sure there were Gallans, Tusainis, Barzunnis, and Marenites, too, but they tend to look more like us than the others.

Quick enough I spotted some filches and cutpurses, then a clump of doxies and spintries on a corner by their bordel. I began to feel more at home. The mumpers had their posts on the ground. The best way to see them was on the bridges. I had forgotten how many bridges there are in Port Caynn. If the bridge is big enough, as they are on Kings Way, folk set up businesses there, like the mumpers.

I picked out servants and Rats trying to pass as servants for purposes of burglary. Best of all, I saw Dogs, strolling along with batons swinging, eyes on everyone and everything.

"A sharp-looking crew for Day Watch," I told Goodwin quietly.

"They get the best up on Kings Way," she said. "They put on their good face for the visitors."

On the cart climbed. We were coming to the only part of town I really knew, since I'd visited it on both my trips here with Lord Gershom. The ridge that divides Port Caynn in two is crowned by High Street. Lengley Castle, where the district governor lives, stands at the south end, overlooking the sea. Guards House is north of the governor's palace. It has a good view of both sides of the ridge, the part where the river docks are, and the part that makes up the deep harbors. Both times I was here, while my lord met with his Deputy Provost in Guards House, I would run up the stairs to the observation deck and look out at both sides of Port Caynn. I'd pretend I was the Rogue or a Deputy Provost.

As we turned onto High Street, I saw the cold gray stone block of Guards House to our right. I wondered at the strange way they did things here, so different from what I was used to. All of this city's court hearings are done in Guards House. Prisoners stay in each kennel's cages only a short time before they are taken to Rattery Prison, which stands at the north end of High Street. Were I Provost or Lord High Magistrate, I would have arranged things so my Dogs didn't have to travel so far from their kennels and homes to go to court, but every city has its own way of doing things.

Our carter drew up before the gates of Guards House. A pair of Dogs came forward as Goodwin slid down from her seat. She showed them the gold insignia she wore around her neck. "We've orders to present ourselves to my Lord Deputy Provost," she told them. "Sergeant Nestor Haryse was to set an appointment for us – Goodwin and Cooper."

The Dogs unloaded our gear while I saw to Achoo and Slapper. Goodwin slipped our carter some extra coins, which won us a big grin.

"Bless you, mistress, and you, girl! Stands to reason a friend o' Dale's would be as openhanded as him!" He gave us a cheerful wave and turned the cart, heading back toward the river docks.

One of the guard Dogs led us inside, to a desk sergeant. He took charge of us and our gear, sending word of our arrival to Sir Lionel. He also gave the fish eye to Slapper and Achoo. I ignored the fish eye. If Dogs have to report here as soon as they arrive in town, the sergeant must see they come with all kinds of gear and family.

We didn't wait long before the runner came back, saying we were to follow him to Sir Lionel's office. That was when I turned to my animals. "You're to wait," I said, quietly, so Master Fish Eye didn't hear. "Understand? Tunggu. I mean it. Folk don't cut me extra yardage here. Tunggu. Turun, while I'm thinking of it." Achoo lay down with a patient sigh. Slapper relieved himself on my trunk.

I followed Goodwin, looking back as I left the room. Mother's mercy, both of them stayed where I'd put them. Pounce never would have done that, just because he was a cat.

The runner showed us into Sir Lionel's office. The walls and ceiling were made of fine, polished wood, the moldings well carved. The only other decorations were maps of the city, one for each Guard District. There were maps, too, of the outlying districts. Unlike Corus, which is a command of itself, the Deputy Provosts are in charge of countryside as well as the cities and towns where they are situated. Sir Lionel's reach covers the same area as the district governor's, north along the River Tellerun to opposite the city of Arenaver, east to the Great Road North, then south to the outskirts of Corus.

For all he is a Deputy Provost and a noble, his office is plainer than my Watch Commander's. There are no carpets on the stones of the floor. There are no hangings on the bare spaces of the walls. The windows have horn panes, not glass. For now they stood open, letting in courtyard noises. One bookcase has some volumes of law. The candlesticks are brass. So too are the inkwell and quill stand.

Two men came in. Nestor was one, dressed in full uniform. He gave Goodwin and me the tiniest of nods. The other was Sir Lionel of Trebond, the Deputy Provost for Port Caynn District. Goodwin and I bowed. He was two inches taller than me, with deep-set brown eyes, a long nose, and a thin mouth. He was lean, and his cheeks were red and weathered. His ginger-colored hair was combed straight back from his high forehead and hung in a slight curl below his ears, as if that curl was all it was allowed. I had a notion he was a hunter, better with hawks than with a boar spear. He dressed well in a calf-length tunic of gray wool. The embroideries at his hems and cuffs were modest, black and white sea lions on strips of blue. The needlework looked like something a daughter might make for him.

Goodwin stepped up to Sir Lionel's desk and held out our orders. He took them, holding them a moment while he looked her over, like a man about to buy a horse. Then he did the same to me. I tucked my hand in my skirt, where I could feel the lump of my fire opal through the cloth. I squeezed it. I'd not had to impress anyone for a long time now.

"Corporal Goodwin I know, though hardly out of uniform," Sir Lionel said. He had a thin, tough voice. I would not want to be guilty of breaking his rules. "You would be Rebakah Cooper, then," he said, and raised his eyebrows. "You are too young for such a mission."

I could feel myself blushing. I knew that, but Lord Gershom had disagreed. Wasn't that good enough for his Deputy Provost?

"Permission to speak," Goodwin said.

Sir Lionel nodded.

"Cooper is a good Dog, and she's my partner," Goodwin explained. "She's been partners with Senior Guardsman Tunstall and me in the bad cases we've hunted down this last year. She would surprise you."

"We'll see." Sir Lionel broke the seal on our orders and read them. I tried not to fidget. I wasn't used to being left standing like this, any more than Goodwin was. Either Sir Lionel had a stick up his bum, or other districts go to pains to say you might be good in your home district but we do things different.

I risked a peek at Nestor. He stood with his legs planted apart, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He looked as if he could stand like that all day and never cramp up. I eased my feet apart some to balance my weight better.

Sir Lionel set down our orders. He finally said, "You may sit, all three of you." We settled in the uncomfortable guest chairs.

"We've had some trouble with counterfeits, largely in the better class of houses of pleasure and some of the jewelers' shops," Sir Lionel told us.

Houses of pleasure? Good Goddess, the man meant bordels. Why didn't he just say so?

"If, as the report sent to me claims, the coins are spread by gambling, I have heard nothing of it. Still, successful gamblers like to spend their winnings. Those are the first places they go. We've heard no warnings from the Silversmith's Bank." Sir Lionel's eyes went to Nestor. "You have a thought, Sergeant?"

"Only that it's hardly to the banks' advantage to report an increase of coles, Sir Lionel," Nestor said. "They'd be the first ones under investigation. Their stock of coin would be locked up until it could be examined for fakes."

"True enough," Sir Lionel replied. To Goodwin and me he said, "I will meet with those of my Watch Commanders that I trust with this news tonight. We'll create a plan to hunt the counterfeiters here. Lord Gershom has made it plain that he wishes the two of you to have a more roving hunt, letting your instincts take you across Guard Districts if need be. To that end, I am turning you over to Sergeant Haryse's guidance. He can give out the tale that you are assigned to his watch district, though you will not be assigned to a particular watch. He is also familiar with the less... law-abiding parts of the city, and is respected there. Sometimes I think he is too fond of those areas, which is why he will not accept promotion away from the streets."

"I feel as if I do more good in the street, Sir Lionel," replied Nestor. "All of my friends are there."

"Impudent Dog," muttered Sir Lionel. To us he said, "Sergeant Haryse will handle your communications with my office and with my lord Gershom. It would look ill for two loose Dogs, as you must appear to be, to deal regularly with Guards House. I believe Sergeant Haryse has found you lodgings. He will also advise you in all other matters, including assistance, should you need it."

"Discreetly," Nestor murmured.

"Above all, discreetly," Sir Lionel agreed. "We do not wish to start a panic. You must take care not to start false rumors and panics, Guardswomen. We have a peaceful city here, and I will not tolerate the creation of agitation among my citizens by you outsiders."

"Permission to speak," Goodwin said a second time.

"Granted," replied Sir Lionel.

"With respect, Sir Knight, you are uncomfortable with our presence," Goodwin went on, as formal as I'd ever heard her. "Given the long history of cooperation between Corus and Port Caynn, I'm not sure why. Only good has ever come from our districts working together."

Sir Lionel shook his head. "I have no problems in working with Corus, Corporal Goodwin. My problem lies in first, the fact that we have a peace here, and I fear that you will break it, and second, in the fact that both of you are women. I would be far happier if my lord Gershom had sent men. I feel, along with others, that women's souls are more tender, more vulnerable." He stopped and looked at Goodwin and me. "Neither of you has the least notion of what I mean. Life on the street has coarsened this young girl as it has coarsened you, Corporal. I can only pray the Gentle Mother that you two do not create so much trouble that my people are put at risk getting you out. Take care in your investigations. At the first sign of difficulty, call on us for help."

He nodded, cool as snow after such an astounding speech. Nestor and Goodwin rose. Goodwin had to poke me with her foot to make me realize I had to get up, so dazed was I. We were dismissed.

Nestor led us back to the desk sergeant. "We'll take your gear to your lodgings," he said over his shoulder. "Then I thought you might want a decent supper before you turn in for the night. Is that well with you?"

"It depends on those two," Goodwin said, jerking her thumb at Achoo and Slapper. "They came with us."

Rubbing the top of his head, Nestor looked at the animals.

"Watch the pigeon," the desk sergeant warned. "One of the lads tried to shoo 'im off and got pecked in the nose for his trouble."

"He's a watch pigeon," Goodwin said, straight-faced. "Mean as a snake, but easier to feed."

The desk sergeant laughed.

"Actually, I am acquainted with Slapper," Nestor said. "The last time I tried to feed him, he bit me. Twice. Now, I didn't get to meet the hound properly in Corus."

"Achoo, bangkit" I ordered. "Berdiri." Achoo sat up at attention, her chin high, her eyes straight ahead. "She's a scent hound, about two years old."

"Pleased to meet you," Nestor told Achoo.

"Achoo?" asked the desk sergeant, coming down from his tall chair. "The Achoo?"

"There's only one Achoo amongst the Corus scent hounds, sir," I replied.

The sergeant crouched before her. "We borrowed her a year back, Nestor. She sniffed out them dreamrose smugglers for us. This is a fine hound, and someone's been treatin' her like scummer." He glared at me with ice-blue eyes. His gray mustache seemed to bristle at me. My tongue froze in my mouth.

"Sergeant Axman here was a handler of scent hounds before they nailed him to this desk," Nestor explained. "He breeds them now for us."

"What's the likes of Achoo Curlypaws doin' with a junior Dog?" the sergeant demanded. "No offense, youngster, but with her record, this hound ought to have a senior handler."

Achoo made the smallest of grumbling noises deep in her throat. It could have been a growl, it could have been a low whine. She has very good manners.

I looked at the hound. Achoo Curlypaws? I had no notion she even had a last name! When I get home, I need to go to the scent hounds' kennels and read all the paper they have about her. NOTE – MUST DO SOON!

Goodwin told the sergeant, "Her last senior handler treated Achoo like scummer. Then he dumped her on Cooper when Cooper objected. It's only been in the last few days that Achoo's wounds have healed under Beka's care."

"May I say hello?" Nestor asked. "Aside from Master Pounce, I've never petted a legend before."

"Kawan, Achoo," I said, pointing to Nestor. She wagged her tail. I pointed to the sergeant. "Kawan. You can say hello," I told them. I could tell Sergeant Axman wanted to look her over, but he was too polite to ask. Now he could do so.

Once Nestor was friends with Achoo, he and Goodwin went to get a cart from the stable yard. Sergeant Axman was still petting Achoo, crooning to her in some soft language that Achoo seemed to like very much. I dug the remains of a roll from my pocket and fed them to Slapper. For once, he didn't try to pummel me with his wings or peck at me while he ate.

I was thinking about Sir Lionel's peculiar notions about women. I've never heard such puke, not from anyone. Who was this Gentle Mother? Another face of the Great Goddess?

I wished so badly that Pounce had been there to explain. Instead I whispered to Slapper, "He said me'n Goodwin are coarsened. And he said women's souls are more vulnerable and tender! Has he never seen a mot bowl over some cove that's bothering her?"

"It's this cult of the Gentle Mother teachin' that women are delicate souls." Axman swiveled so he could look up at me. "You're supposed to be too pure to dirty yourselves with combat." He barked a laugh. "Tell 'at to my old woman. She's been in His Majesty's navy since she was old enough to tie knots. Some of these lady knights'll cut you from crown to cod, you even look at 'em disrespec'ful."

He couldn't be too bad if Achoo liked him. I nodded. "I know one who does that if you get between her and her end-of-day ale."

"Exac'ly so. There's a sergeant in Corus, Ahuda – " he said.

I grinned. "She's my Watch Sergeant."

He grinned back, showing three missing teeth. "She's a caution, that 'un. If we had five like her here, there'd be no Rats in all the city."

Goodwin and Nestor returned. "Then we'd die of boredom, Sarge," Nestor said. We gathered up our things and hauled them out to the cart. Just to show Goodwin I could, I carried my trunk myself.

"Cooper, you were actually conversing," Goodwin said as we climbed into the cart. Nestor took the reins and glanced back at me.

"He heard me telling Slapper about that Gentle Mother stuff. He was explaining it to me, but it's still moonsongs, far as I can tell." I settled Achoo in the cart. Slapper waited until we were sitting still, then landed in a corner, muttering to himself.

Nestor said, "Why are you talking to pigeons, Beka? Where's Pounce?"

And here I'd thought I wouldn't have to explain it anymore. Wearily I told Nestor why Pounce wasn't traveling with me. He whistled when I was done. "We'll just have to see to it that you have so much to do, you'll hardly miss him," he told me. He waved to the Dogs on guard as we rattled through the gate. "Serenity, that runs Ladyshearth Lodgings, has an understanding with the Provost's Guards regarding payment. That's where you'll stay. It's on Coates Lane, about five blocks from my house, on the edge of Deep Harbor District. The walk to the kennel and the heart of things is easy. The area's a safe one, though, and the house itself is very safe. Several of our woman Dogs stay there."

He turned off High Street, bound downhill, into the southwestern part of the city on that side of the ridge. Below lay the deep harbor, its blue water sparkling. The big oceangoing ships were scattered over the harbor waters and tied up at the docks, preparing for the night. Some were sailing out between the great breakwaters, taking the evening tide out to sea. I'd loved watching the big ships on my last two visits. They look beautiful, like low-skimming gulls.

I'd already memorized the map Lord Gershom had given us, using the tricks we learned in training. Going by that, we now entered the South Hills District. Tradesfolk lived hereabouts, from the looks of the shops and the dwellings, much like where Goodwin and her man live back in Corus. Very tidy, very respectable. I felt like a flea on the bum of a nobleman's dog.

Ladyshearth Lodgings was near the northern edge of South Hills District, on Coates Lane. I could tell just by looking that this place was too costly for me to afford on my own. It was set off the street, behind a waist-high stone fence. As we approached and passed through the open gate, I noticed that some of the stones had magical runes cut into their faces as protection from thieves and the like. The house itself was stone on the ground floor, wood painted with moon designs for the two upper stories, and a roof that was tiled, not thatched. Even the shutters had been painted with the three moons, crescent, full, and dark. An herb garden was planted around the front of the house.

A short, plump woman in a flour-smutched wool dress came out of the open front door. The mot wore a linen head cloth that covered her hair, but from her brows the color was dark and going to gray.

"Tinggal," I ordered Achoo while Goodwin and Nestor climbed down from the cart. I shouldered my own pack and gathered a couple of Goodwin's.

"Welcome," the woman said. "I'm Serenity. Don't bother with 'Daughter' talk. I'm not a priestess at home. I hope you like the rooms I set aside for you. Nestor says you'll be with us for an indefinite time, so I tried to give you something comfortable." Chattering to Goodwin, she led us inside and up to the second story. "Just press your thumbs to the lock hole to the right of the door. Then the locks will only ever open to you or to me. The spell is one of my best and has never failed me. I will let the maid in to clean, unless you wish to do that yourself. Set your chamber pots and laundry outside the door of a morning, and the maids will tend to them. You may also take your meals here, if you like. Breakfast is from dawn until nine of the clock." She steered Goodwin through one door and me through the next. Nestor followed me with my trunk and set it on the floor.

I stared after her as she bustled off, Nestor following her downstairs. Magicked locks? The room itself was more than I was used to. There were fresh rushes on the floor. The bed was made up with a good blanket and better coverlet, and clean linens were stacked on shelves over the bed. Two chairs with fat cushions sat on either side of a hearth – a hearth! Only wealthy folk have hearths in their bedchambers! There was a stand with a washbasin, a spotless chamber pot, and a large table and chair I could use for meals or writing. Embroidered hangings brightened the walls. I opened the shutters and found myself looking over a vegetable garden, a bit of grazing, a shed for animals, and a chicken coop. The birds scratched on a bare patch of dirt. Along a corner of the yard flowed one of the city's many streams, crossed by a small bridge.

I closed and bolted the shutters and went into Goodwin's rooms. I sank onto her bed. "Gods be thanked the Provost's Guard pays for this, Goodwin! I could never afford it," I told her. "My room probably costs for a week what I pay for two months at Mistress Trout's! What if I break something?"

She shook her head. "Cooper, you worry too much. We've been given an open hunt. That means we use our own judgment about the money, and we have lodgings where we can feel safe. My lord must truly believe you won't spend foolishly. Normally only ten-year Dogs or older are put on open hunts. If your dress is torn, they pay for a new one. If you need to feed old Slapper, they will pay – he's your Birdie, after all!" She punched me lightly on the shoulder. "Let's help Nestor bring up the rest of our things. He says his lodger prepared supper tonight, to welcome us. Enjoy this while it lasts. You'll hate going back to your old ways."

But I like my old ways, I thought, trudging down stairs that were doubtless scrubbed every day. I'm used to them.

Nestor met me in the door. He had Slapper in both hands as the bird twisted, trying to get his beak in Nestor's flesh. "What's the matter?" he asked, his eyes twinkling at me. "Is this place fancier than you're used to?" I nodded. "Cheer up, Beka. I'll wager you'll get plenty of hunts when you're in muck and ice to your eyebrows. Enjoy this while you can."

I watched him return to the cart to help Goodwin. "I hope you're right about the hunts, though I'd prefer no muck and ice," I muttered. On outside I went. Achoo was sitting in the cart where I left her, looking miserable. Serenity was trying to get my hound to sniff her hand.

"Achoo, bau," I told her. Achoo cheered up immediately. She hated to seem unfriendly. She gave Serenity's hand a good sniff as Serenity looked at me. "She's a scent hound," I explained. "She belongs to the Provost's Guard. And – well, I have a bird, too." I held up Slapper.

"I saw it, the poor thing," she replied. "Did you rescue it when you found it so crippled?"

Slapper began to struggle. I gripped him one-handed and took Goodwin's last pack from the bed of the wagon. I hoisted the pack onto my shoulder. "No, mistress. He just came to me as he is, and I can't seem to get rid of him."

Serenity smiled. "You've a good heart under that gruff-ness, Rebakah Cooper, or you wouldn't come with two animals looking to you! I have cracked corn for the chickens. I'll bring a bowl of it up to your room for your poor friend – what is his name? I know your hound is Achoo."

"He is Slapper, and I thank you for the corn," I said, trying to sound as grateful as I felt. "But be careful of him, I beg you. He is a cranky thing, and he hits with those wings of his. And pecks."

"I imagine the foot gives him pain," she said wisely. "I'll get that corn."

Nestor laughed and climbed to the seat of his wagon. "I'll wait here until you're ready to leave."

By the time Goodwin and I had all our things stowed, Serenity had not only brought me cracked corn for Slapper, but a water bowl each for him and for Achoo. I thanked her and offered her a couple of coppers, but she waved them off. "'Tis my pleasure to help with your creatures. Now go along. Nestor is waiting to carry you and Mistress Goodwin off to supper at his home!"

Life is so different if you or your master has deep pockets to pay for it.

We got into the cart again, Goodwin on the seat beside Nestor, me in the bed, and rolled on downhill. Nestor's house was tucked between two others just like it, wooden buildings of two stories with attics above. The painted designs on Nestor's walls were brighter and prettier than his neighbors', showing dancing goats, smiling fish, and tiny flying horses circling bright green vines.

"Why is everything all painted?" I asked Nestor. "Not all the houses, but enough of them."

He looked back at me. "Gershom never told you, the times you were here?" I shook my head. I'd feared my lord would think it a silly question. "Plenty of us worship at Oinomi Wavewalker's shrine, for the obvious reasons. She likes pretty things. Besides, the paint helps keep the wood from weathering."

He drew up before the house and Nestor whistled. A mussed serving girl threw the door open. "Have Haden take the cart to the stable round the corner," Nestor ordered her. The gixie turned and screeched into the house, "Haden, master wants ye!"

A lad the age of my brother Nilo trotted out as Goodwin and I got down. He took over the reins and had the cart rattling down the street before we'd even reached the door.

"Don't wreck it!" Nestor bellowed after him. As we followed him in, he told the gixie, "If he wrecks it, I'm selling your brother to the Copper Isles."

"Where they'll curse yer name forever, sir," she said, not a whit afraid of him.

"Impudence. I am surrounded by it. I am starving!" Nestor bellowed as the gixie skipped up the stair and through an open door. As Nestor led us inside, he explained, "The ground floor belongs to my lodger, Okha Soyan. My rooms are on the upper story."

We followed him up the stairs and into his home to enter a main room clearly meant for sitting, work, and eating. Two doors opened off of it. I guessed that they led to a kitchen and a bedroom.

"I bespoke supper early. I hope you don't mind," Nestor told Goodwin. "I'm not fit company till I've had my evening meal."

"An early supper is fine," Goodwin said. "We'll want to settle in tonight, when we'd normally be out and about, right, Cooper?"

I nodded. I was more interested in watching the person who came in from the room that must be the kitchen, from the good smells that came from it. I knew from his visits to Provost's House that Nestor's lodger was in truth his lover, and I confess I was curious to see the man who had dashed my fourteen-year-old marriage hopes. Nestor had never said Okha was a Carthaki, back when he'd mentioned him to me, yet Carthaki Okha clearly was. Okha's skin was light brown. His black hair was shoulder length and made glossy by some kind of hair oil. He looked to be the same age as Nestor, thirty-one. His eyes were large and dark, his nose short, his mouth thin. He is two inches taller than me, which makes him five feet and ten inches. He is slender in build and graceful, far more graceful than me.

Okha's tunic was autumn orange. I didn't recognize the style of the embroideries. Very dramatic, they were, in black, white, and green zigzags on his hems and collar. He wore slippers stamped with black designs. Large bracelets with odd beaded designs were on his arms, amber drops hung from his ears, and amber beads circled his neck. He wore kohl around his eyes, red paint on his lips. His nails were colored orange, like the Bazhir and the Carthakis do.

Looking at what I've written, I can see that I've described Okha as I would for a Dog report. I do that all of the time, with near everyone I meet when I have their names. But I also want to write of Okha in such a way to sort out how I feel about him. I was so in love with Nestor back then, and I was cracked jealous of a cove I'd never met. I half expected to hate Okha on sight, but I don't. I like him, a bit, and I don't trust that. I don't trust liking someone on sight. If Pounce was here, I could ask him, but he's not. I can trust his instincts more than mine. But he's gone, and I'm left floundering. I couldn't even see how Achoo is with him because she was at Serenity's. Is that a Dog thing to want other opinions Never mind, Beka! Leave the muddling for scholars!

"We were just waiting for you to get here," Okha told Nestor, letting Nestor kiss his hand. Okha's voice was musical and light for a cove's. He smiled at Goodwin. "I'm Okha Soyan. I dance and sing in some of the taverns and gambling houses."

I watched Goodwin, worried how she might handle meeting Okha. You can never tell how folk will greet a bardash or a honeylove. Many don't care, but most screech of unnatural minglings if they so much as see two grown mots or two coves touch hands. It's not what I would like for myself, but I won't speak for what others do. I have enough trouble keeping my own life untangled.

"Clara Goodwin," she replied to Okha's greeting without the tiniest of frowns. "Clary, to most. This is Rebakah Cooper."

Okha turned that bright smile on me. "I'm delighted to meet the famous Beka," he told me. "Nestor has kept me up to date on your accomplishments. He's as proud of you as if you were one of his own trainees." He looked at Goodwin again. "I hope you like our supper. Truda and I did a little cooking."

Goodwin raised her brows. "An entertainer who cooks?"

Okha chuckled. "Often, Mistress Clary, the two are the same. Please, take a seat." He'd steered Goodwin over to a table already set with tankards, spoons, and linen. "Will you have wine or ale?"

Nestor had gone into the kitchen. I sat beside Goodwin while Okha went to bring the ale to the table. "Very graceful," she murmured. "He makes me feel like a clod." She raised her brows at the look on my face. "Stop fretting, Cooper. I'm not going to start screaming. How they live is their own affair."

Nestor and Okha halted as they slid past each other in the narrow kitchen door. Okha bent and kissed Nestor's mouth, then went inside the other room. I looked down. Why in the Goddess's name are so many older people kissing in public of late?

"I'm going to change," Nestor told us. He vanished into another small room at the back of the main one.

I glanced at Goodwin. She was tapping her cheek with her finger. "Okha might help us to meet folk at the richer gambling dens," she said quietly. "It's worth asking."

Okha returned with an ale pitcher and filled cups for Goodwin, Nestor, and himself. The gixie Truda came a moment later with raspberry twilsey for me. It was wonderfully chilled, and cut the dust of all that racketing about in carts.

Okha and Truda had not brought together a meal as much as a feast. I've never been welcomed with such open hands. We had little leaves and fennel for a salad, cuttlefish in black sauce, Carthaki chicken with ginger, cloves, and fruits, fried mushrooms with spices, and cheese fritters. There was even a beet soup that I liked, despite not caring for beets.

I listened to the others talk about news from the palace and news from the port. They discussed ship trade, the harvest and the rye blight, the Bread Riot, and omens. Folk were saying that a sword had appeared in the harbor foam and had broken up, a sword like the one on Tortall's flag. Okha scoffed at that one, since foam is always breaking up. The bad harvest itself was supposed to be an omen that King Roger's crown was in trouble.

Once Truda had cleared the plates and left us with our drink and bowls of cardamom and anise seed to chew, the conversation turned to why we are in Port Caynn. Nestor had sworn Okha to secrecy yesterday about the reason for our presence. We had to trust Nestor's judgment, and Okha had news for us.

"I've taken about ten coles in fees for the last three weeks," he told us gravely. "The other entertainers are whispering about it, too. They're no fools. In the bordels they've stopped taking silver. It's copper nobles or gold pieces. The customers don't like it, but they pay. And I am certain the customers have begun to wonder." When Goodwin looked at him, Okha shrugged in an elegant way. "It's impossible to keep false coin a secret for long. It raises a stink, like bad eggs."

"But you say you don't know who's passing the coin to you," growled Nestor.

"I would have no clients left if I tattled," Okha replied. His face was calm. He didn't seem to mind that Nestor was vexed. "You have known that from the beginning, my dear. I can be useful in some ways, but a Birdie I am not."

"Perfectly sensible," Goodwin said. "Folk already know you live in Nestor's house. Chances are you're the first person they'd eyeball if he came sniffing around."

"Exactly," Okha said with a pleased smile.

"I know," Nestor said. "I do know. It just makes things curst complicated."

"Well, maybe Cooper and I will uncomplicate them for you," Goodwin said. "That's why we're here."

The evening ended soon thereafter. Both coves walked us back to our lodging – not to protect us, they insisted, but because it was too nice an autumn night to waste.

Goodwin and I set a time to meet in the morning and went to our rooms. First I took Achoo out by the brisk stream that flows through the rear yard of the lodging house. When we came back upstairs, I fed her and set about writing the rest of this long day's events in my journal. The worst of it is done now. I can sit here with the shutters open, Achoo curled beside me. From this seat I have a fine view of the city lights. The sound of the creek is peaceful.

I am not sleepy, though. I want to be out there, finding the gambling dens. I want to get a whiff of the smithy that turns the coles out, and the network that carries them inland. I wonder if this is how Achoo feels, all quivery and wishing to be taken off the leash.