Keffria paused as her inventiveness ran out. What was she thinking? It was all too thin a weaving; any fool could see through it. The other Traders would know that, and dissuade her from going. She herself knew that she could not do it. Her sister Althea could have, even her daughter Malta had the spirit and courage. But she was only a quiet mouse of a woman, sheltered and naive. They could all see that about her. They would never let her do it. She suddenly felt foolish for even suggesting such a laughable plan.

Trader Polsk steepled his lean fingers on the table before him. "Very well. You're right. Nonetheless, I insist that Trader Vestrit take a night to think this over before she commits to it. She has been through a great ordeal. Her children would be safe here, but we would be sending her into great danger, with few resources."

"The Kendry sails tomorrow. Could she be ready by then?" Trader Lorek pushed.

"We still have links with slaves in some of the New Trader households. They could pass information to us. I'll get you a list of names to commit to memory," Trader Freye offered. She looked around the table. "We all accept, of course, that this plan must not leave this room."

"Of course not. I myself will speak of it only to the Kendry's captain, to suggest that there may be a stowaway on his ship. One he should not ferret out. He can keep his crew clear of her."

"You will need supplies, and yet we cannot outfit you too efficiently, or your story will not ring true," Jani worried aloud.

"We should prepare her a bracelet. Gold, painted to look like cheap enamel. If she is threatened, she may be able to buy her life with it," Freye added..

Keffria listened as the plan she had suggested took shape around her. She wondered if she were the fish caught in the net, or the fisherman who had thrown it. The dread she felt was a familiar sensation; the lifting elation that accompanied it was not. What was she becoming?

"I insist we allow her at least one night to consider this well," Polsk repeated.

"I will sail with the Kendry," Keffria asserted quietly. "I leave my children in your care. I will tell them I am returning to Bingtown to persuade their grandmother to join us here. I beg you to tell them no more than that."

Veiled heads all around the table nodded. Jani Khuprus spoke quietly. "I only pray that we still hold Bingtown Harbor when you get there. Otherwise, this whole plan is for naught."

IT WAS A BLACK AND SILVER NIGHT. SHE SUPPOSED IT WAS BEAUTIFUL, IN ITS own way, but Malta had no time for considering beauty in her life. Not anymore. The gleaming moon above, the rush of the deadly river below, and in between fog drifting and a light breeze blowing were all things to ignore as she focused on the gentle swaying of the bridge beneath her feet.

It was sickening.

There was a rope railing, but it was slack and right at the edge of the walkway. She preferred to stay to the middle of the span as she walked along carefully. She placed each of her feet carefully, to keep from making the bridge sway any more than it already was. She kept her arms crossed tightly on her chest, hugging herself. The spaced lanterns on the railing doubled and tripled her shadow, making her recall the fuzzy visions from her injury. She felt queasy.

She heard a wild clattering of feet and Selden came racing up to her. She dropped to her hands and knees, and clutched at the planks of the bridge.

"What are you doing?" the boy demanded. "Come on, Malta, hurry up or we'll never get there. There's only three more bridges, and one trolley span."

"Trolley span?" she asked weakly.

"You sit in a little box and yank yourself along on a pulley sort of thing. It's fun. You can go really fast."

"Can you go really slow, too?"

"I don't know. I never tried that."

"We'll try it tonight," she said firmly. She took a shuddering breath and came to her feet. "Selden. I'm not used to the bridges yet. Could you go more slowly and not make them swing so much?"

"Why?"

"So your sister doesn't knock your head off," she suggested.

"You don't mean that," he informed her. "Besides, you'd never catch me. Here. Take my hand and don't think about it so much. Come on."

His hand felt dirty and damp in hers. She held it tightly and followed him, her heart in her throat.

"Why do you want to go into the city, anyway?"

"I'm curious. I'd like to see it."

"Why didn't Reyn take you?"

"He didn't have time today."

"Couldn't he make time to take you tomorrow?"

"Could we just walk and not talk?"

"If you want." He was silent for three breaths. "You don't want him to know you're doing this, do you?"

Malta hurried after him, trying to ignore the sickening sway of the bridge. Selden seemed to have the trick of timing his stride to it. She felt that that if she stumbled, she might go right over the edge. "Selden," she asked quietly, "do you want Mama to know about you and the thick boats?"

He didn't reply. This bargain didn't need to be formalized.

The only thing worse than the bridges was the trolley span. The trolley box was made of basketwork. Selden stood up in it to work it while she sat in the saggy bottom and wondered if it were going to give way any second. She gripped the edge of the basket tightly and tried not to think what would happen if the rope gave way.

The trolley span ended in the limbs of a great tree. A walkway spiraled around its trunk to the ground. By the time they reached the solid earth, her legs were like jelly, not just from nervousness but from the unaccustomed exercise. She looked around in the darkness, baffled. "This is the city?"

"Not really. Most of these are buildings the Rain Wilders put up to work in. We're on top of the old city. Come on. Follow me. I'll show you one of the ways in."

The log buildings were set cheek by jowl. Selden led her through them as if they were a garden maze. Once they crossed a wider road set with torches. She concluded that there were probably more prosaic ways of reaching the buried city. They had come by the path that the children. used. Selden glanced back at her as he led her on. She caught the flash of excitement in his eyes. He led her eventually to a heavy door made of logs. It was set flat to the ground like a trap door. "Help me," he hissed.

She shook her head. "It's chained shut."

"It only looks like it is. The grown-ups don't use this way anymore, because part of the tunnel caved in. But there's room to get through, if you aren't too big. Like us."

She crouched down beside him. The door was slippery with mold. Her fingernails slid on it, filling them with dirt. But it opened, revealing a square of deeper night. With small hope she asked Selden, "Are there torches down there, or candles?"

"No. You don't need them. I'll show you. You just touch this stuff and it lights up a little bit, but only while you're touching it. It's not much, but it's enough to go by."

He clambered down into the darkness. An instant later, she saw a dim glow around his fingers. It was enough to outline his hand on the wall. "Come on. Hurry up."

He didn't say she had to shut the door and she was glad not to. She groped her way down into the darkness. It smelled of damp and stagnant water. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She gritted her teeth and set her hand beside Selden's. The result was astonishing. A sudden bar of light shot out from beneath her fingers. It ran the length of the tunnel before them before vanishing around a curve. Along the way, it arched over doorways. In some places, runes shone on it. She froze in astonishment.

For a time, Selden was silent. Then he said doubtfully, "Reyn showed you how to do that, didn't he?"

"No. I didn't do anything except touch it. It's jidzin." She cocked her head. Strains of music reached her ears from far down the hall. It was strange. She could not identify the instruments, but it was oddly familiar.