The various chickens for sale were usually still alive, trussed up and flapping about noisily. The more valuable Eutracian pheasants resided anxiously in cages atop the stall counters. Upon their purchase they would be removed from their cages and their necks broken for transport home. Smaller creatures, such as rabbits, squirrels, and squab, usually suffered the same fate.

In the continued absence of the Royal Guard, cheating was prevalent. Wine was frequently watered, cheese was soaked in broth to make it look as if it had aged longer, and the flesh of bad fish was sometimes dipped in pig's blood to make it appear fresher. Although the markets on Evenger Street teemed with selections, true bargains were few and far between.

As she passed by the bakery she could smell the warm bread and hear the baker sliding a loaf from the oven with his long-handled wooden paddle. By law, the prices and weights of the loaves were supposed to be fixed, and each baker was required to stamp his loaves with his own seal. Bread was such an important staple that if a baker was found cheating, the citizens occasionally took matters into their own hands. The baker would then appear in the courtyard pillories, one of his underweight loaves firmly tied around his neck as a warning to his peers.

Guessing that cheating a blind person would prove far too tempting for any of these merchants, the beggar woman moved on, taking her growling stomach with her. Instead of soliciting at these stalls, whose proprietors saw many beggars like her, she decided to try her luck on a side street, where she could knock directly on doors. It would be harder for them to say no if she stood in the doorways of their homes, she reasoned.

Her first two solicitations yielded naught but slammed doors. The people behind the third door had been kinder, but they had been able to spare only a single kisa.

Tapping her way to the next door, she reached up to feel its surface. Eutracian custom said that the name of the family house was to be engraved on the doorpost. She ran her dirty fingers over the words and then knocked upon it.

This door opened and a man peered out. "May I help you?"

Staring at nothing, the woman held out her cup. "Alms for the blind?" she asked.

The man simply stared at her for a moment. "This is not an average dwelling," he finally said. "I understand that you are unable to see our sign, but we are not in the custom of giving our money away. I suggest you try the next door down."

The beggar woman thought for a moment. "Are you the master of the house?" she asked.

"No. Please go away."

She held her cup a bit higher. "If only I could speak to the master of the house," she pressed, "then perhaps he might grant me a few tokens of kindness. It is so little to ask."

The man scowled. "As I just told you, this place is not what you think. We never-"

"What is it, Caleb?" a deeper, more commanding voice interrupted. Another man joined the first in the doorway.

"It is only a beggar," Caleb replied. "I was just about to shoo her away."

The second man looked down at the ragged woman. Her gray skin told him that she was quite ill. A look of sympathy crossed his face.

"Let her in," he said. "I will see to her needs. You need to learn how to be more charitable, Caleb. After all, we have plenty to spare."

"As you wish," Caleb answered.

The older man took the woman by one hand and led her into the house, pulling her cart in after her. He led her to a nearby room and closed the door behind them. The simple chamber held little more than a bed and an adjoining washroom. As the man regarded her, he smiled.

"I knew you would come," he said. "But I didn't know when."

Standing up straight for the first time in hours, Satine stretched her back. After putting down her cup and her walking stick, she smiled at Aeolus.

"Thank you for letting me in. I worried that you might not recognize me."

Coming closer, Aeolus kissed one of her dirty cheeks. He beckoned her to a small table, where they both sat and he poured her a glass of water. She drank greedily. He looked her up and down while she emptied the glass.

"Forgive me, child, but are you ill?" he asked.

Smiling, Satine shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Then why is your skin so gray?" he asked. "And what happened to your hair? If I didn't know it was you, I'd truly think that you were at death's door! How did you manage this?"

"I swallowed one of Reznik's potions. It makes you violently ill for a while but the nausea eventually passes. It leaves your skin gray for a couple of days. As for my hair, I ran ash from a fireplace through it." She smiled again. "It is easily washed out."

Aeolus pointed at her pull-cart. "Are those your things?"

She nodded.

"So you need the Serpent and the Sword as a safe house after all," he said. "You're in trouble, aren't you?"

"Not exactly," she answered. "My situation had become more dangerous, but it's nothing I can't handle." She placed one hand atop Aeolus'. "Provided that you'll let me stay here for a while," she added softly.

"Of course," he answered. "You can stay here in this room. That door in the back wall opens into an alleyway. I'll give you a key so that you can come and go as you wish. But I think it would be wise that you do not wander about the school-especially without your disguise. You would surely be recognized."

"What will you tell your students?"

Aeolus smiled. "I'll tell them that I decided to take in a stray. It wouldn't be the first time. By the way, do you have a horse?"

"Yes. He's boarded in a stable not far from here. The fee is paid up for the next two fortnights."

Taking a deep breath, Aeolus nodded. His expression became grave.

"Have you heard the rumors?" he asked.

Satine shook her head. "I have been trying to speak to others as little as I can."

As he gathered his thoughts, Aeolus poured her another glass of water. "They're saying that a tragedy has befallen the Sippora. The rumor is that the river has been poisoned, and that a dark, superheated mass of some sort is approaching the city. If it reaches us, Tammerland is likely to be destroyed. There are bound to be riots for food and water. Only some act of the craft could cause such a calamity. Do you know anything about it?"

Satine sidestepped the question. "If it was caused by the craft, who do you think might be responsible?"

"I don't know," Aeolus answered. "It is said that the prince hosted a large meeting of townspeople in the palace to explain to them that he, his Minions, and his new Conclave are not the cause of our troubles. It is said that he went so far as to introduce them all personally-even the warrior who is second in command of the winged ones. But few were convinced. The wounds of the citizenry still run deep. Many lost loved ones to the very winged creatures the prince now claims to control."

Pausing for a moment, he looked into her eyes. "Are you still pursuing your sanctions?" he asked. Satine nodded.

"During your previous visit you told me that these were to be political killings," he added. "Is that still the case?"

"Yes. But please do not ask me again to desist in this matter, master," she said. "You may not like what I do, but I am a professional. Once I accept a sanction, I always follow it through."

His expression softening, Aeolus took both of her hands into his.

"You must hear me out on this," he said. "During his meeting with the citizens, the prince spoke of a great orb that rained destruction down upon the land. He also said that he and his Conclave did not create it. He claims that he and the princess have a half brother who is the real culprit."

"I know," she said softly. "I was there."

Stunned, Aeolus sat back in his chair. "You were?"

"Yes."