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disservice in sending only ten of you.” He came closer, yet Sasha could not hear his staff tapping on the paving. That meant he’d drawn his blade, as no doubt had Errollyn. “I am Kessligh Cronenverdt, and this is Errollyn. If you know our identities, then you’ll know that ten to three are odds greatly in our favour.”
    “You have no authority to defy the order of the Council of Rhodaan,” said the lieutenant. “Besides which, you may wish to reconsider the odds.”
    More Blackboots were emerging from the tavern. Some were putting their hats on, others adjusting their sword belts. They’d been drinking, clearly, and caught off guard.
    “Twenty to three?” Errollyn said in Lenay at Sasha’s side, testing the weight of his blade.
    “You can have the seven on the left,” said Sasha.
    “Oh, generous.”
    “Oh look, you pack of imbeciles,” said Alythia, striding to stand between the groups. “Seriously, why must everyone always draw swords at the slightest provocation?” She drew herself up to her full height before the lieutenant, chin up and chest out. The lieutenant’s eyes dropped, predictably. Sasha nearly laughed.
    “Fear not, my friends,” she said in Lenay, “my sister’s breasts may save us yet.”
    Alythia threw Sasha a nasty look. “Lieutenant,” she said, “I am Princess Alythia Lenayin.”
    “Princess,” said the lieutenant.
    “Yes, Princess! Wedded to Gregan Halmady, and widowed in the War ofthe King. I have come to Tracato to meet with the Lady Renine, and her son, the young Lord Alfriedo. They shall be expecting me.”
    The lieutenant looked wary. Not a bad ploy at all, Sasha reconsidered. The Renines were the highest rank of nobility in Tracato, direct descendants of the last Rhodaani king. Some Rhodaani feudalists, pursuing the distant dream of a restoration of royal power, called Alfriedo “The Young King.” And now, come treating upon their doorstep, was a princess.
    “One of these days,” said Errollyn in Lenay, “you shall stop underestimating your sister.” Alythia might have heard him, for she seemed to stand a little taller.
    The lieutenant conferred with his men. There was hand waving, and some agitation. Alythia threw Sasha a superior look.
    “Don’t get smug yet,” Sasha told her in Lenay, “there’s still twenty of them.”
    “And vastly less dangerous, without a blade being swung,” Alythia said. “When will you learn?”
    Yells from across the dock interrupted the lieutenant’s arguments. Everyone looked as down a nearby road came running young men with no apparent uniform, save the swords across their backs. But not serrin. Nasi-Keth then. The lieutenant rolled his eyes in exasperation.
    The Nasi-Keth came on with no small amount of hollering and whooping, like boys on their way to a mud fight. As they came closer, Sasha saw that many of them were just that—boys, or teenagers at least, sprinting now with the enthusiasm of those who feared they’d nearly missed an excitement.
    “Kessligh Cronenverdt!” exclaimed the first to arrive. This was a man, not a boy, bald with a red goatee. His blue eyes shone with lively welcome. “I am Reynold Hein of the Tol’rhen, welcome to Tracato!”
    He grasped Kessligh’s hand and shook, ignoring the drawn blade. Other young men skidded in, out of breath and happy.
    “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Reynold continued. “Our Ulenshaal predicted the winds and thought it a good chance your boat would arrive this evening, so we waited at the tavern up the road. Its owner is a good friend to Nasi-Keth; there’s not the same unsavoury characters that frequent some other taverns…” He threw a glance at the Blackboots. “But our Dockwatcher strolled off to talk to a pretty girl who works along the way….”
    Catcalls and jeers came from the Nasi-Keth at an unfortunate young man who blushed red and looked at his feet.
    “…and we nearly missed your arrival!”
    “Step away from them!” barked the