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cradle. She expected him to leave her now, and she drew in the first half of a deep sigh of relief.
    But her breath caught in her throat when with a sudden, impulsive movement, he pulled something off over his head and bent over her again. He was holding the something down toward her, and as she looked up, he dropped it round her neck. She felt the weight of it at once, although it had drifted through the air as if it were made of gossamer. She touched it gently, feeling the half-exciting, half-irritating buzz of magic against her skin, thinking, Oh dear. This is not just a little charm, for sleeping in trees, or keeping your place in a queue.
    There was a buzz in her ears, too; the amulet hadn’t been made for her, she was too small for it, and it was having trouble finding her within the larger space it was accustomed to. She fingered it, waiting, dazzled, helpless, glad she was sitting down. She hadn’t noticed before the shimmer of magic behind the barrier; well, of course, it would be there, in a crowd like this you could never know . . . but this was a lot of magic, a very large lot of magic, what were they expecting?
    The buzz began to subside, and she heard the man say to her, “You wear that, child, and you stay just where you are, it’ll hold you safe.”
    Still a little dazed, she said, “But—”
    The man was already turning away—the sabre twinkled past her eye—she reached out and grabbed his ankle, banging her head on the flat of the blade. It was cold against her skin, and for a moment she saw . . . lace, tiny delicate holes and large drooping arches, squares and triangles and shapes she had no names for, webwork from thread fine as spider silk to stout rope like a carter’s, layers and layers of it, hung like an infinity of veils; soon she would be lost among them. . . . She felt the man’s hand on her head, tipping her upright again, brushing the tangle away. “Little maid, I am sorry. Eskwa is dangerous unsheathed, but I want him dangerous today; and I would rather he bound than he cut. Putting things to rights tomorrow if I have guessed wrong will be easier. But Eskwa does not like binding; he says it is not his work, and it makes him short-tempered.”
    She shook her head to clear it, pulling the string of the amulet against her neck till it bit into her skin as if saying to it, Here. This is where I am. This is all of me there is. She said unsteadily, “I know—how magic works. My aunt is a fairy.” For some reason he laughed when she said this. “There must be an—exchange.”
    She could not refuse so great a gift, but what did one do in a case like this? There were rules for the basic things, salt for saving a life and wine for bringing one safe into the world; if you had no salt you licked the back of your hand; if you had no wine you offered an empty cup; if you had no cup, you offered your cupped hands. She didn’t know the ritual response for having a queen’s ransom dropped round your neck by a stranger when you hadn’t a king’s ransom to give. She was groping in the secret pocket inside her skirt for something to offer him; she did not want to give him one of her paltry charms, she thought it might be rude; and Eskwa made her nervous.
    Her hand closed on Barder’s wooden egret. She hated to lose it, but somehow that made it less meagre a token. She held it up, and the man took it solemnly, and looked at it, and as he looked at it he smiled, and with his smile Eskwa made her less nervous. “I think you are right, child,” he said, “that there must be some exchange between us; Nagilbran always told me I was too light-minded. He would call me very light-minded indeed for this whim of mine,” and he touched his collar-bone with the hand that did not hold Barder’s egret, where his amulet had hung. “This is a very beautiful thing, and the man who made it for you loves you with a love that even magic cannot improve upon. I will not take it away from you. Listen, child. The