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belatedly the ambiguity of her words, she added quickly, “Against the Sturinnese.”
    â€œHe talked about that,” Nedya admitted. After a moment, she said, “I’d keep you both out here in the cold chattering, but Mother and Father are waiting inside.”
    â€œAs patiently as ever, I am most sure,” Alcaren said dryly as he stepped up beside Secca. He glanced sideways at the sorceress. “Mother has never been known for her patience. She has other virtues, but not that.”
    â€œAnd my older brother can be painfully honest,” replied Nedya. “His grace is that he is as unsparing of himself as of anyone else.”
    â€œI’ve always found him the soul of care and tact,” Secca admitted.
    Nedya raised her eyebrows. “For that alone, we should be thankful.” She spoiled the arch effect by smiling.
    Secca handed the gray’s reins to Gorkon, who had ridden up behindthem, but not dismounted. Then she walked side by side with Alcaren up the steps and through the door that Nedya had left open. The entry foyer was not large, a circular space four yards across with white-plastered walls and a floor tiled in a pattern of repeating hexagons of alternating white and dark blue. A single tapestry filled the blank wall directly opposite the doors, and the scene upon it was that of a full-masted ship under sail, rendered entirely in shades of blue, save for the golden-braided border.
    The broad-shouldered older woman who stood just before the tapestry in the small foyer was a good head and a half taller than Alcaren. She had a weathered face somehow both squarish and angular. Her eyes were grayish blue like her son’s—except even more piercing. Beside her stood a smaller, slighter man with dark brown hair streaked with silver.
    The woman spoke first. “I am Carenya, Lady Sorceress, and I welcome you to our dwelling.”
    Secca inclined her head. “I am happy to meet you. Alcaren has spoken much of you and of your success as a trader.”
    â€œWere it not for your efforts, I fear, none of us would be traders for much longer.” A wry smile, but one with warmth beneath, appeared with Carenya’s words.
    â€œI am Todyl.” The man who stood in the archway to the left offered a broad smile. “Alcaren has said how talented you are, but he had not told us that you are also beautiful.”
    Secca found herself blushing, as if she were fifteen years old, instead of more than twice that. “You are most kind, and so is Alcaren.”
    â€œDo come in,” Carenya offered, turning and gesturing in the direction of the archway in which her consort stood. “We should not be standing in the foyer.” She paused. “It is damp outside. Would you like some warm cider? Or a hot brandy?”
    â€œCider, if it would not be too much trouble.”
    â€œFor me, also,” Alcaren added, almost apologetically.
    The trader glanced at Nedya. “If you would…”
    â€œI’ll be quick,” promised the young woman.
    The sitting room beyond the archway was both as Secca had imagined it, and not at all the same. Given Alcaren’s description of his mother, she found the spareness unsurprising, but not the vivid reds and yellows infusing the few hangings on the plaster walls and the three brilliant green cushions on the all-wooden settee where she seated herself.
    Alcaren sat down beside her, protectively, as Todyl and Carenyasettled into unupholstered wooden armchairs across a bare low table from the settee.
    â€œAlcaren has said that you are one of the Thirty-three of Defalk, both by ability and by birth.” Carenya offered the words as an opening, but without a tone of questioning.
    â€œI am Lady of Flossbend. My father held the domain, but he died when I was a child, and both my mother and my brothers were poisoned by my uncle. The lady Anna defeated my uncle and restored the lands to me. I became a sorceress, and