"I agree it's wrong, Brother Stahn," he said. "But I'm afraid it's also fairly inevitable, as well." He shook his head, his expression sad. "Men who are afraid do ugly things. And one of the things they do first is to strike out at and try to destroy whatever frightens them."

Mahldan nodded, although Traighair was pretty sure the sexton's understanding was more intellectual than emotional. The priest wished he were a more inspired speaker, better able to explain what he saw so clearly, but he was a teacher more than a preacher, without the gift of language which God had given so generously to some other priests. He tried not to envy their greater gifts and to appreciate the ones he'd been given, but that was harder to do in times like these.

"All I can tell you, Brother, is that I urge you to go home. Go about your business and do your best to ... well, keep your head down." Traighair's smile was fleeting. "I don't know where the fellows you're talking about are likely to go in the end, but I advise you to keep yourself out of their sights."

"But they're threatening people, Father!" Mahldan protested. "And they're claiming it's what God and Langhorne want them to do!"

"I understand that, Brother," Traighair said as patiently as he could. "But there's nothing you can do about it, and if you confront them, you only run the risk of pouring oil on the flames. Trust me, men who say the things you say they said aren't going to respond well to reasonable argument!"

He gazed into the sexton's eyes, willing Mahldan to simply take his word for it. He didn't want to have to tell the gentle librarian that if he confronted the Temple Loyalist toughs he'd described he was only going to bring their violence down on his own head. And he didn't want to have to explain that he was beginning to fear no amount of "reasonable argument" could head off what he was afraid was coming.

"Are you sure, Father?" Mahldan shook his head. "The Writ says we're supposed to stand up for what we know is right and denounce what we know is wrong."

"Yes, we are. And you have-to me," Traighair said firmly. "You'll just have to trust me when I say I'll bring it to the attention of the proper ears. That's my responsibility, not yours."

Mahldan still looked unhappy and distressed, but he finally nodded.

"Good, Brother Stahn. Good!" Traighair patted the older man on the arm. "Now, about those 'sins' of yours." He shook his head and smiled. "I believe I can safely say they're all scarcely even venal, this time. So light a candle to the Holy Bedard, leave an extra silver in Pasquale's Basket this Wednesday, and say ten 'Hail Langhornes.' Understood?"

"Yes, Father," Mahldan agreed obediently, and the young priest stood and began escorting him down the nave.

"I know you're worried," he said quietly as they reached the front steps. "To be honest, so am I, because these are worrying times. But you're a good man and, if you'll forgive my saying so, a gentle one. I think you'll best serve by lending your prayers to those of all good and God-fearing people. And"-he looked the sexton firmly in the eye-"by staying home, keeping out from underfoot, and not making things worse. Understand me?"

"Yes, Father." Mahldan managed a wry smile and nodded again, more firmly.

"Good!" Traighair repeated. "Now, go home!"

He pointed like a stern grandfather, and the white-haired Mahldan laughed and obeyed the imperious gesture. The priest watched him until he turned the corner, then turned and walked briskly back into his church. It would be tight, but he had time to talk to those "proper ears" he'd promised Mahldan he'd speak to between now and afternoon mass if he hurried.

"I can see why Father Lharee was upset, Your Eminence," Aivah Pahrsahn said.

She stood gazing out her windows at North Bay once more. The Navy of God galleons had long since departed for Hsing-wu's Passage, and the blue water sparkled under the September sun, busy with the weathered, tan sails of Siddar City's teeming commerce. It would be winter again soon enough, she thought, with icy snow, rain, and the bay the color of a polished steel blade. She wasn't looking forward to that. In fact, there were several things she wasn't looking forward to, and she was frankly surprised they'd held off this long.

"What worries me most is Father Lharee's fear that he knows these men," Zhasyn Cahnyr said unhappily.

"Surely that doesn't come as a surprise, Your Eminence?" Aivah turned to face him, and her expression was a strange mix of compassion and exasperation. "Did you truly believe this was all purely spontaneous? Something just naturally bubbling up out of Siddarmark's burning loyalty to Mother Church and the people currently controlling her policies?"

"I..." Cahnyr looked at her for a moment, then shrugged unhappily. "No, of course not," he said. "I mean, in some ways I'd like to believe it's purely out of loyalty to the Church, even if a mob mentality is a dangerous thing. Mobs can do horrible things, and I've seen it. But if Father Lharee is right, if these men Brother Stahn is talking about really do come out of Bishop Executor Baikyr's or Father Zohannes' offices, then we may be looking at something a lot worse than some kind of spontaneous vigilantism!"

"Of course we are," Pahrsahn told him flatly. "And Father Lharee is right, Your Eminence. I already had the names of four of the men he's talking about, and at least one of them works directly for Father Saimyn."

Cahnyr looked at her sharply, and his expression tightened. Father Zohannes Pahtkovair, the Intendant of Siddar for the last sixteen months, was about as ardent as even a Schuelerite came. Cahnyr couldn't be positive, but unless he was sadly mistaken, Pahtkovair had been handpicked by Zhaspahr Clyntahn for his current post specifically because of that ardency. The Inquisitor General would have made it his business to be certain he had a reliable intendant in a place like Old Province, the original heartland of the Republic of Siddarmark, under any circumstances. These days, with the upsurge in Reformist sympathies throughout the Republic, Clyntahn was going to be more focused on his intendants' reliability than ever. Especially since Bishop Executor Baikyr Saikor was apparently at least a little more sympathetic to the Reformists than Archbishop Praidwyn Laicharn, his immediate superior. Of course, Saikor was also a bishop executor of the old school-a bureaucrat first and foremost, not someone likely to succumb to a sudden rush of piety. He'd follow his superiors' instructions to the letter whatever his personal views might be. Still, it was obvious to Cahnyr that the bishop executor wasn't going out of his way to stamp on peaceful, process-oriented Reformists, which probably explained why he'd been assigned a more ... activist intendant last year.

Father Saimyn Airnhart, however, worried the Archbishop of Glacierheart even more than Pahtkovair. Zohannes Pahtkovair was zealous about keeping a close eye on the reliability of the local clergy, but Airnhart was even more zealous. Which undoubtedly explained why he'd been assigned as Pahtkovair's immediate subordinate for what was euphemistically termed "special functions." In effect, Airnhart was responsible for managing the Inquisition's covert operations. Not information gathering, not observation, but active operations-offensive operations, one might better say-intended to identify, unmask, and destroy the enemies of God and Mother Church ... no matter where or who they might be. And no matter what he had to do to accomplish his mission, which had to suit Airnhart just fine. As Schueler had written in the very first chapter of his book, after all, "Extremism in the pursuit of godliness can never be a sin." Cahnyr wasn't at all convinced Saimyn Airnhart had ever bothered to read any of the rest of The Book of Schueler.

"You really didn't know, did you, Your Eminence?" Pahrsahn said quietly.

"About Airnhart?" Cahnyr pursed his lips and exhaled heavily, then shrugged. "I knew about him, of course. We've been ... keeping an eye out for him. But I hadn't realized Bishop Executor Baikyr was working that directly with him. Or vice versa."

"To be honest, I'm not sure how directly involved the Bishop Executor actually is," Pahrsahn said. "I know Pahtkovair has both his hands in the pie right up to the elbow, and Airnhart's his chief kitchen assistant. On the other hand, I know where both of them are. I can keep an eye on them, and"-her voice turned grimmer, her eyes harder-"if I have to, I can put my hand on them anytime I need to, as well. I know you don't want to hear that sort of thing, Your Eminence, but I'm afraid I've become rather addicted to that aphorism about the Archangels helping those who help themselves."

She looked at Cahnyr, who nodded. She was right; he didn't want to hear about "that sort of thing," but what he wanted and what he needed were two different things.

"The thing that bothers me most about Father Lharee's report," Pahrsahn continued, "is what Brother Stahn had to say about Laiyan Bahzkai. He's been turning into a really nasty piece of work, Your Eminence, and until today, I genuinely thought he was a 'spontaneous' bigot."

"What do you mean?"

"Bahzkai's an ... interesting fellow, Your Eminence. He's a Temple Loyalist, but he's also a Leveler. And he's been getting more active as an organizer over the past several months. More visible and more vocal. And he's been moving steadily further and further towards their violent wing ever since Clyntahn declared his embargo against Charisian trade."

Cahnyr's mouth tightened. He'd never heard Bahzkai's name before, but he was more familiar with the Levelers than he wanted to be. In truth, he was more than a little sympathetic to at least three-quarters of their platform. He was less than convinced about the need for the complete and total destruction of capitalism, yet he was certainly willing to admit the system as it existed-especially in the Temple Lands, where senior churchmen used their privileged positions, entrenched corruption, and cronyism to amass staggering fortunes while squeezing out any competition-could and did create huge inequities. That was the main reason the Levelers had originated in the Temple Lands, and many Reformists were at least mildly sympathetic to the Levelers' core arguments.

These days the Levelers were more active in the Republic of Siddarmark than anywhere else, however, which was precisely because the Republic's level of tolerance was so much higher than that of most other mainland realms. As far as he was aware, they had virtually no representation in Charis, but that was understandable enough given the general Charisian enthusiasm for trade and individual self-betterment. Charisians liked capitalism-a lot-and they weren't especially interested in hearing from people who disapproved of it.

It was ironic, perhaps, that the realm in which the movement operated most openly was the one where the inequalities against which it inveighed were least pronounced, but that didn't make it something the Republic's civil authorities embraced with open arms, either. In Cahnyr's opinion, though, the Levelers' position that all men and women were equally children of God and therefore should take equal care of one another was straight out of the Holy Writ. There was nothing the least objectionable about that! And the majority of Levelers advocated peaceful means of pursuing their platform, although strikes and work stoppages had a tendency to turn violent at the best of times, especially in places like the Temple Lands or quite a few of the Border States between them and the Republic. And God only knew what would happen to a batch of Levelers who tried "civil disobedience" someplace like the Harchong Empire!

A growing number of Levelers did advocate a more ... proactive stance, however. What Pahrsahn had just called their "violent wing" was tired of peaceful remonstrance and petitions for redress. Its members had come increasingly to the view that no one would ever take them seriously until they convinced the rest of the world they were serious, and that would require violence. Personally, Cahnyr thought they were out of their minds if they believed they could reform society into genuine egalitarianism by killing anyone who disagreed with them, although he supposed that when the rest of the world was busy going insane anyway, they might be excused for thinking they saw an opportunity to implement some of their own reforms. But still....

"A Leveler working hand in glove with the Inquisition?" he said. "That sounds suitably bizarre!"

"They don't usually find one another congenial company, do they?" Pahrsahn agreed. "That's what bothers me about this. Bahzkai's a printer and a pamphleteer, and he's produced some fairly inflammatory stuff for several years now. The Republic's authorities've known exactly who he was and where to find him, but however inflammatory he may have been, he was always careful to stay away from advocating any form of violence. Only that emphasis of his has been changing over the last year or so. Since shortly after Pahtkovair was assigned to the Siddar archbishopric, in fact. And he's been focusing more and more of his complaints about the unfair, unequal distribution of wealth on the Empire of Charis and Charisians in general."

"Not Reformists? Charisians?"

"Well, in some ways an anti-Charisian bias from somebody like a Leveler is understandable enough," Pahrsahn pointed out. "If there's any city in the entire world whose society is further from the Leveler ideal than Tellesberg's, it could only be Shang-mi, and that's heading in the opposite direction!"

Despite himself, Cahnyr chuckled at her disgusted expression. Shang-mi, the capital of the Harchong Empire, made Zion seem like a hotbed of reform!

"But Bahzkai's been concentrating on how damned rich Charis is supposed to be getting out of this war," Pahrsahn continued, her expression becoming much more somber once more, "what with 'sucking the lifeblood' out of 'legitimate Siddarmarkian businesses' because of the embargo and the way the trading houses are evading it. As nearly as I can tell, he buys into the theory that what this is really all about is greed and that Charis, rather than needing every single mark to pay for the navy it needs to survive, is deliberately siphoning the Republic's wealth into its own purse out of sheer avarice. Its 'indecently wealthy plutocrats' are actively pushing a deliberately aggressive, militant foreign policy to promote the war in order to fill their purses with more of the deserving world's marks. If it weren't for their greed, this whole thing could've been settled ages ago by a simple appeal to the Grand Vicar's justice."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Forgive me, Your Eminence, but it's always seemed to me that the very first thing that happens with any zealot is that he removes his brain just in case any thoughts that might challenge his zealotry should happen to stray into it. Present company excepted, of course."

"Ouch." Cahnyr winced. "Do you really think of me as a zealot?"

"For certain definitions of the word, I certainly do," Pahrsahn replied calmly. "On the other hand, I'm a zealot. For that matter, there's zealotry and then there's zealotry, and while I may be prejudiced by my own perspective, I don't think of you as a fanatic zealot. Just a ... zealous zealot."

"Thank you for your exquisite tact, my dear."

"Don't mention it, Your Eminence." She smiled at him, but then her expression sobered again. "Anyway, the reason Bahzkai came to my attention had less to do with his excoriation of the Empire of Charis than it did with his growing hostility towards Charisians in general. In particular, he's been focusing on how Charisian refugees here in the Republic have been taking employment away from Siddarmarkians. He's scarcely the only one doing that, as I'm sure you're at least as well aware as I am, but he's been a lot more organized about it than most of the loudmouths and hotheads. And now we have this suggestion that he's associated with Airnhart somehow. And apparently he's been accepting some printing jobs from people who're putting up broadsheets attacking the Reformists, as well. I knew he wasn't a huge admirer of the Reformists-which always struck me as a little odd, since the Reformists are a lot more sympathetic to the kind of world the Levelers want to build than someone like Clyntahn or Trynair could ever be-but it hadn't occurred to me that Airnhart might be steering some of those printing jobs to him."

"I don't think I like where you're going with this," Cahnyr said slowly.

"Neither do I."

She turned to look out the window once more, reaching up to slowly coil and uncoil a lock of hair around her right index finger while she thought. She stood that way for several minutes, then looked back over her shoulder at the fugitive archbishop.

"The Temple Loyalist rhetoric and invective against the Reformists have been growing steadily stronger, Your Eminence. We both know that. And in the last month and a half or so, I've been hearing more and more clearly vocalized anger against the Charisians, as well. The thing that's occurring to me-and Father Lharee's report isn't the only reason I'm thinking this way, either-is that somebody may actually be deliberately orchestrating that growth in anger and invective. That particular nasty suspicion was already running through my brain, but if Bahzkai, who I know is involved in it, is working directly with Airnhart, I think we have to very seriously consider the possibility that this extends a lot further than I thought it did. I was operating on the assumption that it was primarily an urban phenomenon, something which was strongest in the cities where the Reformists and Charisians are most concentrated and political opinions are always likely to ferment more ... energetically than in the countryside. But if the Inquisition's the one stirring the pot, they may be nursing it along in places I hadn't even considered yet."

"You think this is some sort of Republic-wide ... plot, for want of a better word?" Cahnyr could have wished his own tone was more incredulous. Pahrsahn's slow nod of agreement didn't make him feel any better, either. "That's ... well, I don't want to call it preposterous, but it sounds awfully ambitious even for someone like Clyntahn."

"Our illustrious Grand Inquisitor's done something in the last three or four years to convince you he doesn't think in 'ambitious' terms?" Pahrsahn asked just a bit derisively.

"Of course not. I just meant-"

"You meant that the Republic of Siddarmark is huge and that organizing anything like this as a workable proposition would be an enormous undertaking, especially in the middle of a war?"

"Well, yes. Pretty much."

"At first sight I might be inclined to agree with you, Your Eminence," she said very seriously, "but consider three things. First," she held up her left fist, index finger extended, "the Inquisition, like Mother Church herself, is everywhere. And, two," her second finger joined her index finger, "at this moment Zhaspahr Clyntahn's concentrated more power in his hands than probably any other Grand Inquisitor in the history of Mother Church. And, third," her ring finger joined the other two, "we are in the middle of a war, which means he and Rayno are in a position to argue convincingly that the Church is fighting for her very survival. Your Eminence, even priests who fundamentally disagree with many of the things Clyntahn's doing right now are acquiescing because of the Church's frightened, defensive mindset. And to be honest, the Charisians' string of victories only makes that fear still stronger. Worse, Clyntahn's made it abundantly clear what he's willing to do to anyone he might even remotely consider an opponent or an enemy. So added to the fear for Mother Church's survival we have the personal fear that anyone who gets in the Inquisition's way is going to suffer for it-suffer severely.

"So we have the Inquisition's feelers and tentacles threaded throughout not just the Republic but all of the mainland realms, and we have a Grand Inquisitor with a genuine iron fist and a taste for using it, and a priesthood-not just in the Inquisition, but everywhere in Mother Church-frightened by the combined challenge of the Church of Charis from without and the Reformists from within and frightened of that iron fist of his. Do you really think under those circumstances that someone like Zhaspahr Clyntahn and Wyllym Rayno wouldn't see the potential to ... destabilize a Republic of Siddarmark they've hated and distrusted literally for decades? I know the very thought is revolting, but try to put yourself inside their minds for a moment. From their perspective, would there really be any conceivable downside to tearing the entire Republic apart and simultaneously getting their hands around the throat of the Reformist movement here in Siddarmark?"

Zhasyn Cahnyr looked at her grim, lovely face for the better part of a minute and a half in silence. And then, slowly, he shook his head.

.VII.

Lord Protector Stohnar's Residence and the Charisian Embassy, Siddar City, Republic of Siddarmark "The temperature seems to be rising awfully sharply for September," Greyghor Stohnar said sourly, looking around the handsome, inlaid table in the richly appointed library of the Lord Protector's personal residence.

He could have held this meeting in his public office in the Lord Protector's Palace off Constitution Square, but public offices were just that: public. Not even Henrai Maidyn's agents could be sure there weren't spies in his own staff, although it seemed unlikely. He was almost certain the Group of Four would have taken much more strenuous action against him long before now if Zhaspahr Clyntahn had managed to get a spy that close to him. On the other hand, he hadn't survived this long by taking anything for granted.

"Temperatures tend to do that when someone starts blowing on the flames," Maidyn said unhappily.

"You're sure that's what's happening, then?" Lord Samyl Gahdarhd asked, his expression acutely unhappy. Maidyn looked back at him, and the Keeper of the Seal grimaced. "I realize you're not in the habit of just casually dropping unsubstantiated rumors on us, Henrai, but if you're right about what's going on under the surface, we're about to land in a sea of trouble."

"Then I recommend we all learn how to swim," Daryus Parkair, the Republic's Seneschal, said harshly. Gahdarhd's eyes moved to him, and Parkair shrugged. "Every one of my agents is reporting exactly the same thing Henrai's are. Or, the ones I'm sure haven't been suborned by Pahtkovair or Airnhart, anyway." He showed his teeth briefly. "Frankly, there aren't as many of those as I wish there were."

Stohnar ran his right hand through his hair, his expression rather more harried than he ever allowed it to look in public. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen this coming for quite some time, he reminded himself. There was, however, a difference between anticipating something at some unspecified future date and actually seeing it rumbling towards you like Shan-wei's salt grinder.

"All right," he said after a moment, "I think we just answered the question of whether or not they're up to something. So it seems to me that the ones still before us are how soon they intend to move, how widely they intend to move, and exactly how they plan on all of this coming down in the end."

"I hope no one minds my pointing out that those are rather broad questions," Gahdarhd observed dryly.

"I agree." Maidyn nodded crisply and turned to the Lord Protector. "I don't think we can answer any of them in any definitive sense. What does seem probable, though, is that they've been working on whatever they have in mind ever since Clyntahn sent us Pahtkovair. I wouldn't be surprised if they've had contingency plans basically forever, and when Charis declined to lie down and die they decided to dust one off and update it to fit the new circumstances.

"I also think we can assume they'd really like for whatever they have in mind to happen before the snow starts flying. That would explain why their agitators are ratcheting the 'temperature' up right now-they've only got about another month or a month and a half before winter closes in."

"You're probably right, Henrai," Parkair said, "but let's not invest too much confidence in that timing. If we're looking at some widespread operation directed at the Republic as a whole, then, yes, they'd probably prefer to have it out of the way before winter starts cutting down on their mobility. If what they're planning is a more focused operation, something like seizing control of Siddar City and the government in a quick coup rather than some popular general uprising by our 'outraged citizenry'-with no outside provocation at all, of course!-they might see winter weather as their ally. If they don't succeed in the first rush, bad weather would make it more difficult for us to bring in reinforcements from outlying regions that decided to remain loyal to us."

"A valid point," Stohnar said. "On the other hand, we're talking about Zhaspahr Clyntahn. He's not the sort to think small, and we've got reports of the same sorts of propaganda and 'spontaneous' organizations from at least a dozen other cities and towns. To me, that suggests he's thinking in terms of your 'widespread operation,' Daryus."

"I think we have to assume he is, anyway," Maidyn agreed. "We'll be a lot better off planning against a bigger threat than we actually end up facing than underestimating the danger and getting our heads handed to us when the shit really starts flying."

"Granted," Parkair agreed, and Stohnar nodded.

"All right, we'll think in terms of an execution date on their part sometime in the next two months. If it turns out we've got longer, so much the better."

"Have we heard anything from Cahnyr or the lovely and devious Madam Pahrsahn?" Gahdarhd asked wryly, and Stohnar chuckled.

"Not directly, no. Then again, we're officially trying to arrest Cahnyr-as soon as we can find him, of course-and Madam Pahrsahn doesn't know-officially, at least-we're even aware of her activities. That makes it just a tiny bit difficult for them to openly share information with us. On the other hand, I suspect at least some of Henrai's informants are really part of Madam Pahrsahn's network. I think she's making sure we find out about certain things she's discovered. What I'm a lot less sure of is whether or not she's telling us everything she's discovered." The Lord Protector shook his head. "The lady has an agenda of her own, and while I'm prepared to welcome just about any ally if this turns out as badly as we're afraid it could, I'm not about to assume she isn't feeding us selected information. I don't think she'd actually lie to us to get us to do what she wants, if only because she's foresighted enough to realize how badly that could hurt her with us down the road, but I'm positive she wouldn't be above ... manipulating information in order to prod us into doing what she wants. Whatever it turns out that is."

"The lady is a force to be reckoned with," Parkair agreed. "She and my wife have become quite close, you know. I've warned Zhanaiah to be cautious, and you all know Zhany's no fool, but she obviously approves of Madam Pahrsahn. She thinks she's one of the smartest people she's ever met, too."

"That's Tymahn and Owain Qwentyn's view, as well," Maidyn agreed.

"I know." Parkair nodded. "But what the Qwentyns may not know is that Madam Pahrsahn's purchasing agents-purchasing agents she seems to have been very careful to keep well away from the House of Qwentyn and her official, legal investments-have now taken possession of something over eight thousand rifled muskets. Which have all mysteriously disappeared since."

"What?!" Gahdarhd stared at him, and the Seneschal chuckled sourly.

"Hahraimahn did tell us she was investing in rifles," he pointed out. "And we told him-unofficially, of course-to go ahead and sell them to her as a way to finance some additional manufactory capacity without any investment on our part." He shrugged. "Obviously I'd prefer to be doing the investing and stockpiling the weapons ourselves, but if there's one thing Clyntahn's agents have to be looking for it's evidence we're involving ourselves in some major rearmament program without mentioning it to Mother Church."

"I understand all that," the Keeper of the Seal said a bit impatiently. "I was part of the discussion, remember? But eight thousand rifles?!"

"It would appear Madam Pahrsahn had rather more to invest than we thought when we told Hahraimahn to sell her whatever she ordered," Parkair said a bit whimsically. "I wonder what she would have done if he'd offered to make artillery for her?"

"What in hell, if you'll pardon my language, does she plan to do with that many rifles?" Gahdarhd asked Stohnar, and the Lord Protector shrugged.

"Something Clyntahn won't like, I hope. In the meantime, though, unless we want to take official cognizance of her and ask her if she'd be so kind as to hand them over to us, I think we need to plan on the basis of what we know we have and what we're afraid Pahtkovair and Airnhart may have managed to make available on their side of the hill. Suggestions, anyone?"

"... the honor to be, et cetera, et cetera," Sir Rayjhis Dragoner said, looking out across the city of Siddar, drowsing peacefully under a golden September afternoon sun. He sighed, then turned and stood with his back to the window, watching Wynai Thyrstyn's busy pen jot down the last few words. "I'll trust you to finish it up properly," he said with a smile which was only slightly forced.

"Yes, Ambassador." Wynai looked up with a smile of her own. It wasn't much of a smile, but Dragoner was glad to see it anyway. She hadn't smiled very often since losing not simply her brother but her favorite cousin, as well, in the Hairatha powder mill explosion. "I'm sure I can come up with a properly respectful closing."

"I knew I could count on you. Zheryld was right about how useful you've been, and not just taking dictation and dealing with the correspondence. I've valued your input on a lot of issues, Wynai. You realize that, I hope?"

"I've tried to be useful, Sir Rayjhis," she said with a small bob of her head, but the fleeting smile had disappeared again. "I only wish I thought it was really going to do some good."

"All we can do is the best we can do." Dragoner's tone was firmer and more optimistic than he truly felt, and he was pretty sure Wynai knew it.

He truly was glad Zheryld Mahrys, his secretary of many years, had managed to find Madam Thyrstyn for him, and not just because she was a skilled stenographer and secretary. He could always use more people with that set of skills, but she was also smart, and it was that, coupled with the many years she'd lived here in the Republic, which made her truly valuable to him. She understood Siddarmarkians in ways he simply didn't, despite how long he'd been posted as the Charisian ambassador to the Republic.

And you might as well admit it, Rayjhis, he told himself now, turning back to the window. You value her because she's your window into the Charisian Temple Loyalists here in the city, too.

"Do you really think it's as bad as some people seem to be saying, Sir Rayjhis?" she asked now, and he shrugged.

"I think it's not as good as I wish it were," he said. "Let's just put it that way." He shrugged again. "All we can do is warn people to be careful, to avoid provocations, and for any of them who can to return to Charis."