“Oh, Malta, this has all been so unfair to you,” Grandmother began. Then, “Chin up; cheery smile. Here comes Davad.”

He bore down on them like a big gander in a poultry yard. “Well, I do think it is tragic, just tragic, to hurry this sweet girl home like this. Is her headache truly that bad?”

“Devastating,” Malta replied quickly. So that had been her grandmother's ruse. “I am not accustomed to such late hours, you know,” she added sweetly. “I told Grandmother I only wished to bid you good night and thank you for your kind offer of your coach. Then we shall be on our way.”

“Oh, my poor little sugarplum! Surely, you will at least bid the Satrap good evening. After all, I have already told him you must leave, and I've come to escort you while you say good-bye.”

That sealed her doom. No gracious way out. “I suppose I could manage it,” Malta said faintly. She set her hand on Davad's arm, and he hastened her across the room to the high dais, with Ronica Vestrit hurrying after them.

“Here she is, Magnadon Satrap,” Davad announced grandly before Malta had even caught her breath. He did not seem to notice that he had interrupted a conversation Trader Daw was having with the Satrap.

The Satrap turned a languorous glance on Malta. “So I see,” he said slowly. His eyes moved over her casually. “Such a shame you must leave so soon. We have had only the briefest of conversations, and on such an important topic.”

Malta could think of nothing to say. She had sunk into a deep curtsey the moment the Satrap deigned to notice her. Now Davad rather ungracefully took her arm and hauled her to her feet again. The act made her appear clumsy; she felt the blood rush to her face. “Aren't you going to tell him good night?” Davad prompted her as if she were a backward child.

“I wish you a good evening, Magnadon Satrap. I thank you for the honor of your dance.” There. That was dutiful and correct. Then, before she could forbid herself the hope, she added, “And I pray you will soon act on your offer to send rescue for my father.”

“I fear I may not be able to, sweet child. Trader Daw tells me there is some unrest down in the harbor tonight. Surely my patrol vessels must stay in Bingtown until it is subdued.”

Before Malta could decide if he expected an answer to that, he was turning to Davad. “Trader Restart, would you have your coach summoned? Trader Daw feels it might be safest for myself to leave the ball early. I shall be sorry not to witness all of your quaint festival, of course, but I see I am not the only one to prefer caution over entertainment.” His languid arm swept the ballroom. Malta glanced around reflexively. The crowd had thinned substantially, and many of those who remained were gathered in small anxious groups and talking. Only a few young couples still moved across the dance floor in apparently blissful ignorance.

Davad looked uncomfortable. “I beg your pardon, Magnadon Satrap. I had just promised Trader Vestrit and her family the use of my coach to get her safely home. But it will return quite swiftly, I promise you.”

The Satrap rose, stretching like a cat. “It will not need to, Trader Restart. Surely, you cannot have intended to send these women off by themselves? I shall accompany them to their home, to see them safely there. Perhaps young Malta and I shall have a chance this evening to continue our interrupted conversation.” The smile he gave her was a lazy one.

Her grandmother swept forward in a rustle of gown. She curtseyed low, near demanding that the Satrap recognize her. After a moment, he nodded at her irritably. “Lady,” he acknowledged in a flat voice.

She rose. “Magnadon Satrap, I am Malta's grandmother, Ronica Vestrit. We would, of course, be honored to have you call upon us, but I fear our household is a very humble one. We could scarcely accommodate your visit tonight; at least, not in the manner in which you are no doubt accustomed to being welcomed. We would, of course-”

“My dear lady, the whole purpose of travel is to experience that which one is not accustomed to. I am sure I shall find your household accommodating. Davad, you will see to sending my personal servants over tonight, will you not? And my trunks and baggage.”

The way he spoke, it was not a request. Davad bobbed an acquiescent bow. “Certainly, my lord Magnadon. And-”

“Your coach is outside by now, surely. Let us take our leave. Trader Daw, bring Companion Kekki's wrap and my cloak.”

Davad Restart made a last brave attempt. “Magnadon Satrap, I fear we shall be very crowded in the coach-”

“Not if you ride on top with the driver. Companion Serilla seems to have vanished. Be it upon her own head. If she will not attend me as she should, then she must bear the consequences. Let us leave.”