Instead of looking pleased for her, Delo looked troubled. “Cerwin will not rejoice at that news. He had hoped to claim a dance or two with you tonight . . . and perhaps more, if your beau was not here.”

Malta could not resist. “Surely I am permitted to dance with whom I please tonight? I have not given my promise to Reyn yet.” Some of her old giddiness swept through her. “I shall certainly save a dance for Cerwin. And perhaps for others as well,” she added mysteriously. As she had just given herself permission, her eyes swept over the gathered folk, lingering on the young men. As if they were surveying a tray of dainties, she invited Delo, “And who do you think your first dance will be with?”

“My fourth, you mean. I have a father, a brother and an uncle who will claim dances with me, after I am presented.” Her brown eyes suddenly went wide. “I had the most awful dream last night. I dreamed that at the moment I was presented and was making my curtsey, the stitches in my dress all came out and my skirt fell off! I woke up shrieking. Can you imagine a worse dream than that?”

A tiny chill went up Malta's spine. For a moment, the brightness of the ball dimmed and the music seemed to fade. She clenched her teeth and willed the darkness away. “Actually, I can. But, look, the servants are ready at the refreshment table. Let's go and get something to still the bear in your stomach.”

DAVAD RESTART WIPED HIS SWEATY PALMS ON THE KNEES OF HIS TROUSERS. Who would ever have believed it? Here he was, going to the Summer Ball as he had for so many years, but not alone this time, oh no. Not this year. Across from him in the coach sat the Satrap of all Jamaillia, and beside him the lovely Companion Kekki in an astonishing gown wrought of feathers and lace. Beside him was the less flamboyant, but still important, Companion Serilla in her demure cream gown. He would escort them into the ball, he would sit at table with them and he would introduce them, to all Bingtown society tonight. Yes.

He would show them all.

How he wished his beloved wife had survived to see this triumph.

The thought of Dorill put a brief shadow across his victory. She and the boys had been claimed years ago, when the Rain Wilders brought the Blood Plague down the river. So many had died then, so very many. The plague had most cruelly spared him, left him to live alone, speaking to the memories of his family, always imagining what they would say, what they would think of all he was doing each day. He took a breath and tried to recapture his satisfaction in the moment. Dorill would be pleased and proud. He was sure of it.

And the other Bingtown Traders would concede that he was as shrewd and foresighted a trader as they had ever seen. Tonight he was going to bring it all together. The Satrap himself would dine with them, and they would remember all that Jamaillia and elegant society meant to Bingtown. In the weeks to come, he would be at the Satrap's side as he and his Companions healed the rift between the Old and New Traders. He could not begin to imagine the trade benefits that would bring to his door. Not to mention that he would finally recapture his social stature with the Bingtown Traders. They'd have to welcome him back into their midst and admit that, over the years, he had seen more keenly than they had.

Davad smiled to himself as he considered the final capstone to his evening's plans. Lovely as Kekki and Serilla were, they were drab compared to Malta Vestrit. They were fine as Companions, as advisors and intellectuals. But tonight it was Davad's intention to introduce the Satrap to his future consort. He was so certain the young man would be smitten with Malta that he could already almost imagine the festivities for their wedding. There would have to be two ceremonies, one in Bingtown and a second, grander one in Jamaillia. He would certainly attend both of them.

It would save the Vestrit fortune and redeem him in Ronica's eyes. It would link Bingtown and Jamaillia forever. Davad Restart would be remembered forever as the man who had reconciled the towns. Years from now, the Satrap's children would call him Uncle Davad.

He chuckled warmly to himself, swept away on the glorious tide of his future. He realized that Companion Serilla was looking at him uncertainly. His heart suddenly went out to the woman. No doubt, the Satrap would have no further need of her, once he was married to a woman who was Bingtown born and raised. He leaned toward her and patted her knee companionably.

“Don't fret about your gown,” he whispered to her. “I am sure that all of Bingtown will honor you for your position, no matter what you are wearing.”

For an instant the poor thing just stared at him wide-eyed. Then she smiled. “Why, Trader Restart. How kind of you to attempt to be comforting!”