He paused and sighed heavily. “I have no one else to turn to in my isolation. I know I must rebuild my alliances. If I could form some trade connections with the Rain Wild Traders, I could do so. I know that many in Bingtown do not approve of my politics. They say I grovel to the New Traders, that my dabbling in slavery is a disgrace, that I have betrayed the Bingtown Traders by negotiating for the New Traders. But you know that I only do so to survive. What else is there for me? Look at me! I have no one, nothing but my own wits to depend on. No wife to comfort me, no children to inherit my holdings. All I am trying to do is maintain enough property and income to keep me comfortable through my old age. After that, it all ends.” He paused dramatically and then finished in a dwindling voice, “My line ends with me.”

Ronica had closed her eyes halfway through this recitation. When Davad sighed yet again, she opened them. “Davad,” she said in a warning voice. “Shame on you, trying such tricks on me. I refuse to pity you, any more than I pity myself. The pits we are in, we have dug ourselves. You know the roots of your problems; you just listed them yourself. If you want to regain the respect of the Bingtown Traders, leave off politicking for the New Traders. Stop 'dabbling' in the selling of humans. Go back to being who you were and your friends will return. Not quickly, for you have trodden firmly on too many toes. But eventually. You are Old Trader. As soon as you recall that to yourself, our compatriots will recall it as well.”

“And in the meantime, I should genteelly starve?” Davad blustered. As if to fend off such a dire fate, he took a large bite of the spice cake in his hand.

“You will not starve,” Ronica pointed out implacably. “As you have said, you have only yourself to support. You could live off your own holdings if you chose to apply yourself, even if you never negotiated another trade in your life. I venture to say that if you reduced your servants, you could supply most of your own wants from a kitchen garden, some chickens and a few cattle. You could revert to simplicity, as Keffria and I have been forced to do. As for your being alone in the world, well, as I recall, you have a grandniece. Approach her, if you want an heir. It might mend a great deal with that branch of your family.”

“Oh, she hates me.” Davad brushed the idea away with the cake crumbs that had fallen into his lap. “Some chance remark I made to her husband when he was courting her. She treats me as if I have the plague. It's beyond all mending.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Besides. How can you criticize my 'dabbling' in slavery? Isn't that where Kyle and the Vivacia are right now, on a round of slave-trading?” At the darkening look on Ronica's face, he abruptly changed his tactics. “Please, Ronica. I won't linger. Just allow me to be here when he arrives, simply introduce me as a family friend. That's all I ask. Just help me to establish a nodding acquaintance. I'll do the rest for myself.”

He looked at her appealingly. The perfumed oil on his hair had left a sheen on his brow. He was pathetic. He was an old friend of the family. He trafficked in slaves. He and Dorill had been wed a week after she and Ephron had married; they had danced at one another's weddings. He was certain to say something unfortunate to Reyn. He had come to her as his last hope.

He was a disaster in the making.

She was still looking at him dumbly when Keffria came into the room. “Davad!” she exclaimed. She smiled stiffly. Her eyes were round with horror. “Such a surprise! I did not know you were here.”

Davad rose hastily, nearly oversetting his coffee cup. He charged at Keffria, took her hand and beamingly exclaimed, “Well, I know it is not completely correct, but I simply could not resist. With Kyle away, I thought it only fitting that there be some man about your household to appraise this youngster who thinks to come courting our Malta!”

“Indeed,” Keffria said faintly. She turned an accusing gaze on her mother.

Ronica steeled herself to the truth. In a quiet voice she spoke. “I've told Davad it is completely inappropriate. Later in the courtship, if both young people choose to continue it, we will offer a tea and invite family friends. That would be a more appropriate time for him to meet Reyn and his family.”

“I suppose,” Davad said heavily. “If that's the best you can offer your oldest, truest friend, Ronica Vestrit. I'll come back when I'm invited, then.”

“It's too late for that,” Keffria said faintly. “That's why I came to find Mother. Reyn and his family are already here.”

Ronica rose swiftly. “His family! Here?”