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“Do you think I didn’t see the two of you together when the caravan was here?”
    â€œShe’s Whandall Feathersnake’s daughter, and you tell everyone you’re an old friend of Whandall’s,” Sandry protested.
    â€œYes, she is Whandall’s daughter, and yes, he is an old friend, and you know I have no prejudices, none at all. But her mother is kinless! And her father is Lordkin! And you know as well as I do what that means here in Tep’s Town! How could you command the loyalty of Lordkin in the Fire Brigade if you married a girl with a kinless mother?”
    At least, Sandry thought, at least she’s not hinting I ought to just keep her as a mistress. Not that I could. Whandall Feathersnake’s daughter? There wouldn’t be enough money to protect me from her brothers if I did that. I’d never be able to leave Lordshills. “Aunt Shanda, her father is Whandall Feathersnake! Even Wanshig boasts that Whandall’s his brother! Brother, right out loud, and him Lordkin! If I could—if I were fortunate enough to marry Burning Tower, I’d have more power than ever.”
    â€œIn Serpent’s Walk, dear. They’d still laugh at you everywhere else. And what of Roni?”
    â€œWell,” he said, too reasonably, “let’s ask Roni.”
    She backed off from that. “Well, we’ll see. And there are other girls if you don’t like Roni. It would be a good match for both of you, but I know she can be formidable. We can talk about other girls here in Lordshills. But I’m afraid you’ll have to forget that Feathersnake girl, Sandry. Just stop thinking about her. I remember when I was a little girl, I used to think Whandall might come back for me, but I got over that. You will too.”
    Mercifully, Roni came back with lemons before Shanda could say anything else.

Chapter Four
Fear and Foes
    T he inn at Peacegiven Square was beginning to seem like home. Sandry spent enough time there that he took a permanent room for himself and another for Chalker.
    Chalker was something between a valet and a tutor. He had been a retired Peacevoice of the Lordsmen as long as Sandry could remember. After he retired he worked as valet to Sandry’s father, but as he got older, he became Sandry’s bodyguard, not that the children of Lords much needed bodyguards. That was an honorable position for a retired soldier.
    Chalker had been born in Condigeo, or Blackmouth Bay, or Big Rock, depending on which version of his life story you believed. Certainly he had come to the harbor as a young man, married a local kinless girl, and joined the Lordsmen as a recruit while Sandry’s father was a Younglord. Chalker’s wife was long dead, and his own children were grown, gone to sea and never returned, and it seemed a kindness to let him continue in Sandry’s service. What else would the old man do? Not that he seemed old, except late in the evenings, and not always then.
    Breakfast at the Firesale Inn ran to the elaborate. It started as a tearoom the year before when Whandall Feathersnake’s caravan set up market in the square, and then quickly grew to a full-size inn and restaurant, mostly inside but with three tables under a canopy facing on the square itself. Sandry sat at a table there when weather permitted.
    The Feathersnake market had been out in the square. Just over to his right, they’d set up the poles for the tightwire, and Burning Tower had climbed up there to dance in a revealing green-and-orange costume made mostly of feathers. Her feet and ankles had been bare.
    His reverie was interrupted by breakfast. There was a pretty kinless girl as breakfast waitress, but Chalker insisted on bringing Sandry’s eggs on a toasted muffin, and a cup of dark tea he’d made himself.
    Sandry sipped hot tea and smiled. “Thank you, Chalker.”
    â€œWelcome, sir. It’s a good morning.”
    Which in fact it was. The sun