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enjoy his education very much. A number of questions sprang to mind, but he settled for just one more: “Who or what is the Council Watch?”
    “The lawkeepers who answer to the Merchant Council.” Kolton’s blunt face didn’t move much, but his voice had a flat, hard tone. “They look after council matters and enforce low justice in the city proper, so that we Shieldsworn don’t have to trouble ourselves with such business. Or so I’m told.”
    If they let the Crimson Chains walk the streets in the open, they can’t be very good at their jobs, Hamil remarked to Geran. Either they’re hopelessly incompetent or they’re paid not to notice such things. I know which side of that bet I’d cover.
    “Who do I talk to in order to set the watch on the Chainsmen?” Geran asked.
    Kolton snorted. “Captain Zara, down at Council Hall. But you shouldn’t expect much, m’lord. It seems to take a long time for Zara to be certain enough o’ the facts to bring charges against someone, especially if that someone happens to be on a guild or House payroll. Maybe it would be different if you said something—you’re kin to the harmach, after all.”
    “I’ll bring it up with my uncle.” Ten days of hard travel were catching up with him, and the whole sorry mess just left Geran tired, with the beginnings of a headache. He glanced up at the banners flying above the gatehouse. The highest was a blue
    banner with a white seven-pointed star; by the traditions of Griffonwatch, it flew only when the lord of Hulburg was actually present. “Is there any reason I can’t see him now?”
    “None at all,” Kolton answered. He looked over to his companion. “Orndal, you’ve got the gate watch. Call Sarise from the guardroom to take my place, and send word to the chamberlain that Lord Geran’s returned with a guest. Lord Geran, I’ll show you to the harmach.”
    Geran nodded, and the Shieldsworn sergeant led him and Hamil across the courtyard to a wide set of stone steps climbing up between barracks, stables, armories, and storehouses of the Shieldsworn. In Geran’s experience a third or more of the soldiers were posted in various watchtowers and patrols along Hulburg’s northern marches at any given time, keeping watch for ore raids and spellwarped monsters out of the far north. Others would be on leave, staying with families down in the town or carousing in the taverns and alehouses. Either way, most of the barracks rooms were dark and empty.
    Hamil studied it all with interest as they followed the guardsman. “I know that the harmach, Grigor, is your uncle,” he said to Geran. “Who else lives here?”
    “Grigor’s daughter-in-law, Erna, and her children. Erna is the widow of my cousin Isolmar, Grigor’s son. He was killed in a duel about four years ago. I suppose Natali and Kirr are the harmach’s heirs now, but they’re still quite young.” They came to a second courtyard above the barracks and storehouses, where a large hall stood. Kolton trotted up the steps and opened the heavy wooden doors for them. The room beyond was a banquet hall and what served as the harmach’s audience chamber. It was rather plain by the standards of the southern cities, and wind whistled through some unseen draft high up near the rafters. “My Aunt Terena lives here too,” Geran continued. “She is Grigor’s sister.”
    “And your father was Grigor’s brother?”
    “Yes. Terena has two children: my cousin Kara and Sergen, who is her stepson by her second marriage.”
    Hamil nodded. His people were very particular about relations. He sorted out family trees and remembered them with an uncanny ease—a useful advantage in the complicated dealings and rivalries of mercantile Tantras. Geran, on the other hand, had long since learned that he could never keep straight who was related to whom. He had to rely on notes in a journal. It was one more reason he appreciated Hamil as a business partner.
    “Lady Kara rode out to the Raven Hill