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Serilla’s mouth had gone dry. The three men exchanged uncertain glances.

They were being swayed by this mad woman’s words.

They would turn on her! Behind them, the serving boy lingered near the door, listening curiously.

There was movement in the passage beyond him, and then Roed Caern and Krion Trentor entered the room.

Tall and lean, Roed towered over his shorter, softer companion.

Roed had bound his long black hair back in a tail as if he were a barbarian warrior.

His dark eyes had always held a feral glint; now they shone with a predator’s lust. He stared at Ronica.

Despite the uneasiness the young Trader always roused in her, Serilla felt a sudden wash of relief at his appearance. He, at least, would side with her.

‘I heard the name of Davad Restart,’ Roed observed harshly. ‘If anyone has a dispute with how he ended, they should speak to me.’ His eyes challenged Ronica.

Ronica drew herself up and advanced on him fearlessly. She was scarcely as tall as his shoulder. She looked up to meet his eyes as she demanded, ‘Trader’s son, do you admit the blood of a Trader is on your hands?’

One of the older Traders gasped, and Roed looked startled for an instant. Krion licked his lips nervously. Then, ‘Restart was a traitor!’ Roed declared.

‘Prove it to me!’ Ronica exploded. ‘Prove it to me, and I’ll keep my peace, though I should not.

Traitor or not, what was done to Davad was murder, not justice.

But more importantly, gentlemen, I suggest you prove it to yourselves.

Davad Restart is not the traitor who planned the abduction of a Satrap.

He had no need to abduct a man who was guesting in his home!

In believing that Davad was a traitor, and that you have destroyed a plot by killing him, you cripple yourself.

Whoever is behind your plot, if there ever was a plot, is still alive and free to do mischief.

Perhaps you were manipulated into doing exactly what you say you feared: kidnapping the Satrap, to bring the wrath of Jamaillia down on Bingtown?

’ She struggled, then forced calm into her voice.

‘I know Davad was not a traitor. But he may have been a dupe. A sly man like Davad could become the victim of someone slyer still. I suggest you go through Davad’s papers carefully, and ask yourself, who was using him?

Ask yourself the question that underlies every Trader’s actions. Who profited?’

Ronica Vestrit met the eyes of each man in turn.

‘Recall all you knew of Davad. Did he ever strike a bargain in which his profit was not certain? Did he ever place himself in physical danger? He was a social blunderer, a man close to being a pariah to both Old Traders and New. Is that the man with the charisma and expertise to engineer a plot against the most powerful man in the world?’ She jerked her head disdainfully in Serilla’s direction.

‘Ask the Companion who fed her the information that led to her assumptions. Match those names against those bargaining through Davad, and you may have a starting place for your suspicions. When you have answers, you can find me at my home. Unless, of course, Trader Caern’s son thinks murdering me as well would be the tidiest way to resolve this.

’ Ronica turned abruptly. Sword-straight and unsmiling, she faced Roed.

Handsome, swarthy Roed Caern looked suddenly pale and ill. ‘Davad Restart was thrown clear of the coach. No one intended him to die there!’

Ronica met his angry look with ice. ‘Your intentions made small difference. You did not care either way, about any of us. Malta heard what you said the night you left her to die. She saw you, she heard you, and she lived. Small thanks to any of you. Traders, Traders’ sons, I believe you have much to think on this evening. Good night to you.’

This ageing woman in the worn clothing still managed to sweep regally from the room.

The relief Serilla felt as Ronica left the room was momentary.

As she sat back in her chair, she became uncomfortably aware of the faces of the men around her.

As she recalled her first words when the Old Traders entered the room, she cringed, and then decided she must defend them.

‘That woman is not in her right mind,’ she declared in a lowered voice.

‘I truly believe she would have done me harm if you had not arrived when you did.’ Quietly she added, ‘It might be best if she were contained somehow…for her own safety.’

‘I can’t believe the rest of her family also survived,’ Krion began in a nervous voice, but ‘Shut up!’ Roed Caern ordered him.

He scowled about the room. ‘I agree with the Companion. Ronica Vestrit is crazy. She talks of petitioning the Council and murder trials and judgements! How can she think that such rules apply during war? In these days, strong men must act. If we had waited for the Council to meet on the night of the fires, Bingtown would now be in Chalcedean hands. The Satrap would be dead, and the blame put on our heads. Individual Traders had to act, and each did. We saved Bingtown! I regret that Restart and the Vestrit women were entangled in the capture of the Satrap but they made the decision to get into the coach with him. When they chose such a companion, they chose their fate.’

‘Capture?’ Trader Drur raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I was told we had intervened to prevent the New Traders from kidnapping him.’

Roed Caern did not blanch. ‘You know what I mean,’ he growled, and turned aside. He paced to a window and stared out over the darkened grounds as if trying to see Ronica’s departing form.

Drur shook his head. The grizzled Trader looked older than his years.

‘I know what we intended, but somehow…’ He let his words trail away.

Then he lifted his eyes and looked slowly around at all the folk in the room.

‘It was why we came here tonight, Companion Serilla. My friends and I fear that in trying to save Bingtown, we have placed it on the path to destruction of its very heart.’

Roed’s face went dark with anger. ‘And I come to say that those of us young enough to be the beating of that heart know that we have not gone far enough. You long to treat with the New Traders, don’t you, Drur?

Even though they have already spat upon a truce offer.

You would bargain away my birthrights for the sake of a comfortable old age for yourself.

Well, your daughter may sit home and tat while men are dying in the streets of Bingtown.

She may allow you to crawl cravenly to those upstart newcomers and dicker away our rights for the sake of peace, but we shall not.

What would come next? Would you give her to the Chalcedeans to buy peace with them? ’

Trader Drur’s face had gone red as a turkey’s wattle. His fists knotted at his side.

‘Gentlemen. Please.’ Serilla spoke softly.

Tension thrummed in the room. Serilla sat at the centre of it like a spider in her web.

The Traders turned to her and waited on her words.

Her fear and anxiety of a moment ago were scorched to ashes in the triumph that burned invisibly within her.

Bingtown Trader opposed Bingtown Trader, and they had come for her advice.

This was how highly they regarded her. If she could keep her grasp on this power, she could be safe the rest of her life. So, carefully now. Go carefully.

‘I knew this moment would come,’ she lied gracefully.

‘It was one reason I urged the Satrap to come here to mediate this dispute. You see yourselves as factions where the world sees only a whole. Traders, you must come to see yourselves as the world does. I do not mean,’ and she raised her voice and held up a warning hand as Roed drew breath for an angry interruption, ‘that you must give up any of what is rightfully yours. Traders and sons of Traders may be assured that Satrap Cosgo will not take away what Satrap Esclepius granted you. However, if you are not careful, you may still lose it, by failing to realize that times have changed. Bingtown is no longer a backwater. It has the potential to become a major trading port in the world. To do so, Bingtown must become a city more diverse and tolerant than it has been. But it must do that without losing the qualities that make Bingtown unique in the Satrap’s crown. ’

The words just came to her, falling from her lips in cadenced, rational statements.

The Traders seemed entranced. She hardly knew what she was advising.

It did not matter. These men were so desperate for a solution that they would listen to anyone who claimed to have one.

She sat back in her chair, all eyes on her.

Drur was the first one to speak. ‘You will treat with the New Traders on our behalf?’

‘You will enforce the terms of our original charter?’ Roed Caern asked.

‘I will. As an outsider and the Satrap’s representative, only I am qualified to bring peace back to Bingtown.

Lasting peace, under terms all can find tolerable.

’ She let her eyes flash as she added, ‘And as his representative, I will remind the Chalcedeans that when they attack a possession of Jamaillia, they attack Jamaillia herself. The Pearl Throne will not tolerate such an insult.’

As if her words of themselves had accomplished that goal, there was a sudden lessening of tension in the room. Shoulders lowered and the tendons in fists and necks were suddenly less visible.

‘You must not perceive yourselves as opponents in this,’ she offered them.

‘You each bring your own strengths to the table.’ She gestured to each group in turn.

‘Your elders know Bingtown’s history, and bring years of negotiating experience.

They know that something cannot be gained without all parties being willing to surrender lesser points.

While these, your sons, realize that their future depends on the original charter of Bingtown being recognized by all who reside here.

They bring the strength of their convictions and the tenacity of youth.

You must stand united in this time of trouble, to honour the past and provide for the future. ’

The two groups were looking at one another now, openly, the hostility between them mellowing to a tentative alliance. Her heart leapt. This was what she had been born to do. Bingtown was her destiny. She would unite it and save it and make it her own.

‘It’s late,’ she said softly. ‘I think that before we talk, we all need to rest. And think. I will expect all of you tomorrow, to share noon repast with me. By then, I will have organized my own thoughts and suggestions. If we are united in deciding to treat with the New Traders, I will suggest a list of New Traders who might be open to such negotiating, and also powerful enough to speak for their neighbours.’ As Roed Caern’s face darkened and even Krion scowled, she added with a slight smile, ‘But of course, we are not yet united in that position. And nothing shall be done until we reach consensus, I assure you. I shall be open to all suggestions.’

She dismissed them with a smile and a ‘Good evening, Traders.’

Each of them came to bow over her hand and thank her for her counsels. As Roed Caern did so, she held his fingers in her own a moment longer. As he glanced up at her in surprise, her lips formed the silent words, ‘Come back later.’ His dark eyes widened but he spoke no word.

After the boy ushered them out, she breathed a sigh that was both relief and satisfaction.

She would survive here, and Bingtown would be hers, regardless of what became of the Satrap.

She pinched her lips together as she considered Roed Caern.

Then she rose swiftly and crossed to the servant’s bell.

She would have her maid assist her in dressing more formally.

Roed Caern frightened her. He was a man capable of anything.

She did not wish him to think that her request to him was the invitation to a tryst. She would be cool and formal when she set him to tracking down Ronica Vestrit and her family.