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He had effectively ended the conversation.

While some of the Bingtown Traders had regarded him with approval, a few of the others had rolled their eyes at his circumspect ways.

Interesting. She could sense the pull and stress of power at play here.

This Davad Restart seemed to be some sort of a bridge between the Old and New Traders.

Circumstance seemed to have landed them in an ideal position, for both sides of the divided society seemed moderately comfortable in calling on Davad.

While the New Traders brought the Satrap extravagant gifts and invitations to their homes, the Bingtown Traders brought only their dignity and implied power.

She did not think the Satrap had made a particularly good impression on the Old Traders.

It would be interesting to see how things proceeded.

There was so much going on here; it was so much livelier than the staid and stagnant court at Jamaillia.

Here, if a woman was bold, she could make a place for herself.

She pulled a gown from the wardrobe and held it against her.

It would do, she decided. It was simple, but well made; surely that would be appropriate for an evening among provincial folk.

Changing into the gown necessitated baring her body.

She resolutely turned her back to the mirror in the room while she dressed.

Yesterday morning, as she dressed, a casual look in the mirror had revealed to her that the deep bruises on her back and the backs of her thighs had faded to shades of green, brown and yellow.

That brief betraying glance had suddenly swept her back into horror and helplessness.

She had been caught there, staring at herself.

Suddenly a deep shuddering, more kin to convulsion than trembling, had taken her.

She had sat down abruptly on the edge of her bed, and taken great breaths to keep the deep sobs from tearing out of her.

Tears would have been a relief. Even after she had managed to dress, she had been unable to force herself out the door and down to breakfast. They would know.

They would all know. How could anyone look at her and not know how badly she had been hurt?

It had taken her until noon to compress her feelings and master them again.

The panic had passed, and she had been able to join the party, pleading a morning headache as excuse for her absence.

Since then, she had wondered if it were strength or a sort of madness that let her pretend she was normal.

As before, she resolved to create for herself a place where no man had authority over her.

She lifted her chin as she touched scent to her throat.

Tonight, she told herself. The opportunity might come tonight. If it did, she would be ready.

‘How do you stand the veil?’ Grag Tenira asked Reyn. ‘I thought I was going to die of suffocation in the carriage on the way here.’

Reyn shrugged. ‘One gets used to it. I have lighter ones than the one I loaned you, but I feared you might be recognized if you were not veiled heavily.’

They sat together in a guest chamber in the Tenira home.

A small table had been bustled in, laden with bread, fruit, plates, glasses and a bottle of wine.

From the hallway outside came the heavy tread of the servants bringing Reyn’s trunks and chests up the stairs.

Grag’s discarded Rain Wild garb was strewn across the bed.

He tousled up his sweaty hair to cool himself, and then advanced on the table. ‘Wine?’ he offered Reyn.

‘It would be most welcome, little cousin,’ Reyn replied wryly.

Grag gave a half-laugh, half-groan. ‘I don’t know how to thank you enough.

I had not intended to come ashore in Bingtown at all.

Yet here I am, not only on shore but back in my family’s home, for however brief a time.

If you had not been willing to aid me in this ruse, I fear I would still be cowering in the Kendry’s hold. ’

Reyn accepted the glass of wine, deftly slipped it under his veil, and drank.

He gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Well,’ he balanced it, ‘if you had not extended me the hospitality of your home, I’d be standing outside the inn with my cases.

The town is crawling with New Traders and the Satrap’s minions.

My rooms at the inn were long ago given away.

’ Reyn paused uncomfortably. ‘With the harbour blockaded, and the inns full, I do not know how long I will have to beg hospitality of you.’

‘We are more than happy to welcome you both.’ These words came from Naria Tenira as she pushed into the room carrying a tureen of steaming soup.

She kicked the door closed behind her and scowled at Grag as she set the soup down on the table.

‘It is a relief to have Grag at home, and know he is safe. Do have something hot to eat, Reyn,’ she invited him before rounding on her son and demanding, ‘Put that veil back on, Grag. And the gloves and hood. What if I had been a serving girl? I have told you, I trust no one. For as long as you are at home, we must carry on the pretence that you are a Khuprus from the Rain Wilds, guesting with us. Otherwise, you endanger your own life. Since we spirited you out of town, the offer for your capture has only gone up. Half the vandalism to New Trader businesses and the Satrap’s ministries that has gone on in your absence has been attributed to you. ’

She turned from her son and began dishing up soup for Reyn as she continued, ‘You’re near a hero to some of the young men in town.

I fear it is all getting out of hand, and the Satrap’s minister has made you the scapegoat for it.

The Traders’ sons dare one another to “Tenira” a warehouse, and all know what is meant by that.

’ She shook her head as she set food before Reyn.

‘No matter how quietly your sisters and I live, folk still turn and whisper when we go into town.

‘You are not safe here, son. I wish your father were here. I declare, I am at my wits’ end to know how to protect you.’ She pointed commandingly at the discarded veil.

‘I’m a bit old to be hiding behind your skirts, Mother,’ Grag protested as he picked up the veil with distaste. ‘I’ll put this on after I’ve eaten.’

‘I’m a bit old to hope to have another son if they kill you,’ she pointed out in a soft voice.

She gathered up the gloves and handed them to him.

‘Put them on now, and get used to them,’ she begged him.

‘This disguise is your only hope. Sa alone knows when the Kendry or any other ship will get out of Bingtown. You must continue to play the part of a Rain Wilder, and play it convincingly.’ She looked at Reyn beseechingly. ‘Will you help him?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ve given word to the servants that you are both excessively private young men.

They are not to enter without knocking. To honour you, I’ve told them.

Grag’s sisters themselves will see to tidying the room daily.

’ She turned a severe glance on her son.

‘Don’t abuse that, Grag, however humorous you might find it. ’

Grag was already grinning widely.

She ignored him and turned to Reyn. ‘I must beg your pardon that I ask you to share your garments with my son. It seems the best way to preserve the masquerade.’

Reyn laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘I assure you, in my nervousness about the Ball, I have probably brought enough garments to well clothe half a dozen young men.’

‘And I, for one, am looking forward to both the elegance and the mystery of being a Rain Wild son at the Bingtown Summer Ball,’ Grag chimed in. He held up the veil and peered around the corner of it at his mother.

She looked dismayed. ‘Be serious, Grag. Stay at home, here, where you are safe. Reyn, of course, must go, as must your sisters and I. But ’

‘It would look decidedly odd for me to have come all the way from the Rain Wilds and then not attend the Ball,’ Grag pointed out.

‘Especially as we have announced him as my cousin,’ Reyn agreed.

‘Could not we say he was taken ill?’ Naria Tenira pleaded.

‘Then surely it would be expected that someone would stay with me here. No, Mother, I think the least attention will be paid to me if I continue to play my role as expected. Besides. Do you think I could resist the chance to see the Satrap face to face?’

‘Grag, I beg you, none of your wildness tonight. You shall go, then, as you seem so set on it. But I beg you, do not be tempted to do anything to call attention to yourself.’ She fixed him with a grave stare.

‘Remember, the trouble you bring down may fall upon others besides yourself. Your sisters, for instance.’

‘I’ll behave like a very gentlemanly Rain Wilder, Mother. I promise. But if we are not to be late, we must all make haste now to get ready.’

‘Your sisters were ready long ago,’ Naria admitted wearily. ‘They have only been waiting for me, not that it takes long for an old woman like myself to dress. I do not pay as much attention to primp and powder as they do.’

Grag leaned back in his chair with a soft snort of disbelief. ‘That means that we have plenty of time to eat, bathe, and dress, Reyn. No woman in my family can be ready to do anything in less than half a watch.’

‘We shall see,’ Reyn told him pleasantly.

‘You may find that attiring yourself as a Rain Wilder takes longer than you think. A Rain Wild man seldom uses a valet or body servant. It is not our way. And you must practise, at least a bit, how to sip a glass of wine through a veil. Put it on. I’ll show you now, so my “cousin” doesn’t disgrace me at the Ball this evening. ’