No sooner had the head of the Council announced this than a Trader stood to address the Council. They recognized Trader Daw, who spoke his obviously rehearsed words quickly. “This is not a proper matter for the Traders' Council. Trader Tenira's grievance is with the Satrap's tariff office, not with another Trader. He should take it up with them, and let the Council devote its precious time to matters that concern us all.”

With a sinking heart, Althea noted that Davad Restart was seated right next to Daw, nodding soberly to his words.

Tomie Tenira stood. The old sea-captain's taut shoulders strained the sleeves of his Trader's robe. His fists were knotted at his sides. He strove to keep the anger from his voice. “When was the Traders' Council reduced to a nanny quelling squabbles between siblings? What is the Traders' Council, if not Bingtown's voice? The grievance I present is not between the tariff officer and me. It is about an unjust tax levied against all ship owners. Our original charter called for fifty percent of our profits to go to the Satrap's coffers. Outrageous as that is, our forebears agreed to it, and I willingly abide by it. However, nowhere in that charter are these tariffs mentioned. Moreover, no document anywhere says that we must tolerate murdering, thieving Chalcedean mercenaries in our harbors.” Tomie Tenira's voice had begun to shake with fury. He strangled into silence, trying to regain control of himself.

Davad Restart came to his feet. Althea felt ill.

“Council members, all Jamaillian merchants pay tariff to the Satrap. Why should we be any different? Is he not our good and just ruler? Do not we owe him support to maintain the reign that benefits all of us? These tariffs go to maintain the docks and facilities in Jamaillia City, as well as to pay for those who patrol the Inside Passage against piracy. The very qualities Trader Tenira disparages in the Chalcedeans are those that make them excellent defenders against piracy. If he does not care for their services, then perhaps he should . . .”

“The Chalcedean 'patrol ships' are no more than pirates themselves! They stop legitimate ships, with no other intent than extortion. All here know how my liveship Ophelia was injured defending herself from such an unwarranted intrusion. Bingtown ships have never willingly submitted to being boarded by foreigners. Are you suggesting we accept it now? The tariffs began simply, as reasonable fees. Now they are so complicated to figure that we must accept the word of a hired scribe as to what we owe. The tariffs have one purpose only: to make it unprofitable for us to trade anywhere except Jamaillia City. They steal our profits to bind us more tightly to their purse strings. Anyone who has tied up in Jamaillia recently can testify that the charges we are paying are not going for dock maintenance there. I doubt if anything has been spent on those docks in the last three years.”

A general rumble of agreement, with some laughter, followed his last statement. “My ship's boy damn near fell through the last one we tied up to,” someone in the back called out.

Daw stood again quickly, inserting his words into the pause. “Council members, I suggest you adjourn to see if you should even be hearing this matter before you accept any more testimony about it.” He glanced about. “Evening draws close to night. Perhaps we should save this matter for a later meeting.”

“We are well within our purpose in hearing this, I believe,” the head of the Council replied, only to have two lesser members immediately shake their heads in denial. This necessitated another withdrawal to the private room.

This time the room was less patient and social while they were gone. Folk got up and milled about. Trader Larfa of the liveship Winsome came to stand before Tomie Tenira. He did not lower his voice as he announced, “Count on me, Tomie. No matter how it goes here. If you want, give the word now. Me and my sons will be with you, and we'll go right now and untie your ship from that damned tariff dock.” Two tall young men behind him nodded soberly to their father's offer.

“You wouldn't be alone,” offered another man, one Althea didn't recognize. Like Trader Larfa, he was flanked by his sons.

“Let us hope it doesn't come to that,” Tomie said quietly. “I would like this to be something Bingtown acts on, not the Tenira family alone.”

At that moment, a shouting match broke out elsewhere in the room. Althea half stood and craned her neck. She could see little, due to others standing up between her and the dispute, but it seemed to center where Traders Daw and Restart had been seated. “You liar!” someone accused. “You did and you know you did. Without you, the damn New Traders would never have become so deeply entrenched here.” Another voice muttered a bland denial. The Council's order keepers were already moving to quell the disturbance. Althea felt her nails bite into her palms. The room was on the edge of breaking into violence, Trader against Trader.