Althea stood on tiptoe, craning to identify the speaker. “Trader Froe,” Grag told her in a low hiss. “Never stood up for anything in his life. Pinches his coins so tight, they come away with his fingerprints on them.”

As if he had heard the words, Froe asserted, “I'm not giving her one copper shard of mine. They shamed their ship, and Sa took it from them. I heard she was being used as a slaver . . . any liveship worth her salt would rather turn pirate than that!”

“You can't mean that!” Althea was outraged. “You can't dismiss her like that. There is a boy on that ship, my nephew. However you regard his father, you cannot deny he is Trader stock. The ship herself is Bingtown-”

Beside her, Grag stepped to block one order keeper, but another stepped past him to seize Althea's arm. “Out!” he told her firmly. “The Council is recessed. No one is to speak right now. You do not even have the Council's permission to speak. She is not the Trader for the Vestrit family!” he added more loudly as others raised their voices in protest of Althea's treatment. “In the interest of order, she must go!”

It was the spark in the kindling. A bench overturned with a crash. “No!” Althea cried out in horror, and for a wonder, they heeded her. “No,” she said more softly. She put a light hand on Grag's arm. He slackened his grip on the order keeper he had been restraining. “I didn't come here to cause trouble. I came here to ask for help. I've asked. I also came to stand up in favor of the Tenira family. It is wrong for Ophelia to be detained at the tariff dock. They have no legal claim on any of her cargo.” In a lower voice she added, “If any of you want to help the Vestrit Traders, you know where our home is. You will be welcomed and you will hear our full tale. But I won't be named as the one at fault for a riot in the Traders' Concourse. I'm leaving now. Peacefully.” To Grag, she murmured, “Don't follow me. Stay here, in case the Council reconvenes. I'll wait outside.”

Head up and unescorted, she moved through the crowd. She knew she could do no more good here tonight. Others seemed to share her opinion. Those Trader families who had brought small children with them were herding them out, apparently for their safety. All over the room, the order had broken down. Traders stood in small knots, some talking quietly, others arguing with wild hand gestures and raised voices. Althea picked her way past all of them. A glance showed her that her own family had remained. Good. Perhaps they might yet have a chance to speak out officially for rescuing Vivacia.

Outside it was a deceptively peaceful summer night. Crickets were chirping. The brightest stars were pricking their way into the twilight sky. Behind her, the Traders' Concourse hummed like a hive of disturbed bees. Some families were departing on foot, others entering carriages. Despite herself, she glanced about for Brashen, but saw no sign of him or Amber. Reluctantly, Althea turned her steps toward Davad's carriage. She would sit there and wait for the general adjournment of the meeting.

It was nearly at the end of the long line of carriages. She reached it, then halted in horror. The driver had vanished. The team, old and placid as they were, snorted restively and pawed. Blood ran down the door of the carriage, thick and black in the twilight. A slaughtered pig, its throat cut wide, lolled halfway out the carriage window. “SPY” was written in blood over the Restart coat of arms. Althea felt dizzy with disgust.

Behind her, the meeting seemed to have come to a close. Traders were streaming from the Concourse. Some conversed in loud, angry voices. Others hissed in whispers, glancing about suspiciously for eavesdroppers. Her mother was the first to reach her side. “The Council adjourned. They'll have a private meeting to see if they can hear-” Her words halted as she saw the pig. “Sa's breath,” she gasped. “Poor Davad. How could anyone do this to him?” She glanced about as if the culprits might still be lurking.

From somewhere, Grag appeared. After one horrified look, he took Althea's arm. “Come away,” he said quietly. “I'll see that you and your family get safely home. You don't want to be involved in this.”

“No,” she agreed grimly. “I don't. Neither does Trader Restart, I'll wager. I won't abandon him here, Grag. I can't.”

“Althea, think! This isn't someone's impulsive nastiness. Someone planned this. This pig was brought here, for this purpose, before anyone spoke to the Council. It's a serious threat.” He tugged at her arm.

She spun to confront him. “That's why I can't let Davad face it alone. Grag, he is an old man, with no real family left. If his friends abandon him, he's alone.”