“Capture?” Trader Drur raised an eyebrow at him. “I was told we had intervened to prevent the New Traders from kidnapping him.”

Roed Caern did not blanch. “You know what I mean,” he growled, and turned aside. He paced to a window and stared out over the darkened grounds as if trying to see Ronica’s departing form.

Drur shook his head. The grizzled Trader looked older than his years. “I know what we intended, but somehow…” He let his words trail away. Then he lifted his eyes and looked slowly around at all the folk in the room. “It was why we came here tonight, Companion Serilla. My friends and I fear that in trying to save Bingtown, we have placed it on the path to destruction of its very heart.”

Roed’s face went dark with anger. “And I come to say that those of us young enough to be the beating of that heart know that we have not gone far enough. You long to treat with the New Traders, don’t you, Drur? Even though they have already spat upon a truce offer. You would bargain away my birthright for the sake of a comfortable old age for yourself. Well, your daughter may sit home and tat while men are dying in the streets of Bingtown. She may allow you to crawl cravenly to those upstart newcomers and dicker away our rights for the sake of peace, but we shall not. What would come next? Would you give her to the Chalcedeans to buy peace with them?”

Trader Drur’s face had gone red as a turkey’s wattle. His fists knotted at his sides.

“Gentlemen. Please.” Serilla spoke softly. Tension thrummed in the room. Serilla sat at the center of it like a spider in her web. The Traders turned to her and waited on her words. Her fear and anxiety of a moment ago were scorched to ashes in the triumph that burned invisibly within her. Bingtown Trader opposed Bingtown Trader, and they had come for her advice. This was how highly they regarded her. If she could keep her grasp on this power, she could be safe the rest of her life. So, carefully now. Go carefully.

“I knew this moment would come,” she lied gracefully. “It was one reason I urged the Satrap to come here to mediate this dispute. You see yourselves as factions where the world sees only a whole. Traders, you must come to see yourselves as the world does. I do not mean,” and she raised her voice and held up a warning hand as Roed drew breath for an angry interruption, “that you must give up any of what is rightfully yours. Traders and sons of Traders may be assured that Satrap Cosgo will not take away what Satrap Esclepius granted you. However, if you are not careful, you may still lose it, by failing to realize that times have changed. Bingtown is no longer a backwater. It has the potential to become a major trading port in the world. To do so, Bingtown must become a city more diverse and tolerant than it has been. But it must do that without losing the qualities that make Bingtown unique in the Satrap’s crown.”

The words just came to her, falling from her lips in cadenced, rational statements. The Traders seemed entranced. She hardly knew what she was advising. It did not matter. These men were so desperate for a solution that they would listen to anyone who claimed to have one. She sat back in her chair, all eyes on her.

Drur was the first one to speak. “You will treat with the New Traders on our behalf?”

“You will enforce the terms of our original charter?” Roed Caern asked.

“I will. As an outsider and the Satrap’s representative, only I am qualified to bring peace back to Bingtown. Lasting peace, under terms all can find tolerable.” She let her eyes flash as she added, “And as his representative, I will remind the Chalcedeans that when they attack a possession of Jamaillia, they attack Jamaillia herself. The Pearl Throne will not tolerate such an insult.”

As if her words of themselves had accomplished that goal, there was a sudden lessening of tension in the room. Shoulders lowered and the tendons in fists and necks were suddenly less visible.

“You must not perceive yourselves as opponents in this,” she offered them. “You each bring your own strengths to the table.” She gestured to each group in turn. “Your elders know Bingtown’s history, and bring years of negotiating experience. They know that something cannot be gained without all parties being willing to surrender lesser points. While these, your sons, realize that their future depends on the original charter of Bingtown being recognized by all who reside here. They bring the strength of their convictions and the tenacity of youth. You must stand united in this time of trouble, to honor the past and provide for the future.”

The two groups were looking at one another now, openly, the hostility between them mellowing to a tentative alliance. Her heart leapt. This was what she had been born to do. Bingtown was her destiny. She would unite it and save it and make it her own.