He continued quietly. "So, you see. The contract is already settled.

You don't have to marry me to discharge it." His gloved hands tangled desperately against each other.

“And the dragon?” Malta asked breathlessly.

“She hates me now. I suppose that if she can drown me in her memories, she will. She tries to get me to come to her. But I resist.”

“How?”

He sighed. With a twinge of humor, he confessed, “When it gets really bad, I get so drunk I can't even crawl. Then I pass out.”

“Oh, Reyn.” She shook her head in sympathy. And she has him to herself then, Malta conjectured. To torment as she wishes, in her world, with no escape for him. She took a breath. “What if I married you as part of the contract? If I said I preferred to pay it off that way, rather than have your family forgive it? Would that free you from your bargain?”

He shook his head slowly. “It wouldn't release me from my contract.” He cocked his head at her. “Would you really do that?”

She didn't know. She could not decide. He had made such a terrible bargain, just to be with her. But she could still not say, easily, that she wished to marry him. She knew so little about him. How could he have doubted her, and yet still have given his city up for her? It made no sense. Men were not at all what she had believed they were.

She held out her hand to him. “Take me for a walk.” Without a word, he took her hand. He led her out of the small chamber, to take her strolling on the walkway that spiraled up the trunk of the immense tree. She held his hand and did not look down nor back.

“I FAIL TO SEE WHAT GOOD IT DOES FOR US TO KEEP HIM. IT LOOKS LIKE we've kidnapped him.” The lean Rain Wild Trader flung himself irritably back in his chair.

“Trader Polsk, you are thick-witted. The advantage is obvious. If we have the Satrap, he himself can speak out for us. He can say he was not kidnapped, but rescued by us from the New Traders' assassination plot.” Trader Freye, the woman who criticized Trader Polsk so roughly, sat next to him. Keffria decided they were either friends, or related.

“Have we completely convinced him that that is the truth of the matter? The last time I heard him speak, he seemed to feel he had been snatched from an affable host and spirited away. He didn't use the word kidnapped, but I don't think it was far from his tongue,” Trader Polsk replied.

“We should put him in different chambers. He cannot help but feel a prisoner, held in such a place.” This from Trader Kewin. His veil was sewn so thickly with pearls that it rattled when he spoke.

“He is safest where he is. We all agreed to that hours ago. Please, Traders, let us not re-tread ground we have already packed into bricks. We need to move past why we hold him or where we hold him to what we plan to do with him.” Jani Khuprus sounded both weary and annoyed. Keffria sympathized.

There were moments when Keffria looked around herself and wondered where her life had gone. Here she was, sitting in a large chair at an imposing table, flanked by the most powerful Traders of the Rain Wild folk. The plans they discussed amounted to treason against the Jamaillian Satrapy. Yet, what surrounded her was not as strange as what was missing. Everything. Husband, son, mother, wealth and home had all vanished from her life. She looked around at the lightly veiled faces and wondered why they tolerated her here. What could she contribute to their Council? She spoke up anyway.

“Trader Khuprus is right. The sooner we can take action, the more lives we will save. We must get word to Jamaillia that he is alive and well. We must emphasize that we mean no harm to him, and that we hold him only for his own safety. Furthermore, I think we need to separate that message from any other negotiations. If we mention land grants or slavery or tariffs in the same missive, they will assume we are bartering the Satrap's life for what we desire.”

“And why shouldn't we?” Trader Lorek spoke up suddenly. She was a massive woman. A muscled fist smacked the table. “Answer me that, first. Why are we holding that spoiled adolescent in a fine chamber that he treats like a pig-sty and feeding him our best foods and wines when he has treated us as both loathesome and honorless? I say, bring him out here and make him look at us. Give him a dip or two in the Rain Wild River, and a month of hard work, and see if he doesn't gain a bit of respect for our ways. Then trade his life for what we want.”

Silence followed this outburst. Then Trader Kewin replied to Keffria's comments. Most of the Council seemed to ignore Trader Lorek's little outbursts, Keffria noted. “To whom do we send such a message? Companion Serilla suspected that the conspiracy extends through many of the Jamaillian noble houses. They may be angered that we have preserved his life. Before we brag that we have foiled the plot, perhaps we should find out who was behind it.”