Trader Polsk steepled his lean fingers on the table before him. “Very well. You're right. Nonetheless, I insist that Trader Vestrit take a night to think this over before she commits to it. She has been through a great ordeal. Her children would be safe here, but we would be sending her into great danger, with few resources.”

“The Kendry sails tomorrow. Could she be ready by then?” Trader Lorek pushed.

“We still have links with slaves in some of the New Trader households. They could pass information to us. I'll get you a list of names to commit to memory,” Trader Freye offered. She looked around the table. “We all accept, of course, that this plan must not leave this room.”

“Of course not. I myself will speak of it only to the Kendry's captain, to suggest that there may be a stowaway on his ship. One he should not ferret out. He can keep his crew clear of her.”

“You will need supplies, and yet we cannot outfit you too efficiently, or your story will not ring true,” Jani worried aloud.

“We should prepare her a bracelet. Gold, painted to look like cheap enamel. If she is threatened, she may be able to buy her life with it,” Freye added. .

Keffria listened as the plan she had suggested took shape around her. She wondered if she were the fish caught in the net, or the fisherman who had thrown it. The dread she felt was a familiar sensation; the lifting elation that accompanied it was not. What was she becoming?

“I insist we allow her at least one night to consider this well,” Polsk repeated.

“I will sail with the Kendry,” Keffria asserted quietly. “I leave my children in your care. I will tell them I am returning to Bingtown to persuade their grandmother to join us here. I beg you to tell them no more than that.”

Veiled heads all around the table nodded. Jani Khuprus spoke quietly. “I only pray that we still hold Bingtown Harbor when you get there. Otherwise, this whole plan is for naught.”

IT WAS A BLACK AND SILVER NIGHT. SHE SUPPOSED IT WAS BEAUTIFUL, IN ITS own way, but Malta had no time for considering beauty in her life. Not anymore. The gleaming moon above, the rush of the deadly river below, and in between fog drifting and a light breeze blowing were all things to ignore as she focused on the gentle swaying of the bridge beneath her feet.

It was sickening.

There was a rope railing, but it was slack and right at the edge of the walkway. She preferred to stay to the middle of the span as she walked along carefully. She placed each of her feet carefully, to keep from making the bridge sway any more than it already was. She kept her arms crossed tightly on her chest, hugging herself. The spaced lanterns on the railing doubled and tripled her shadow, making her recall the fuzzy visions from her injury. She felt queasy.

She heard a wild clattering of feet and Selden came racing up to her. She dropped to her hands and knees, and clutched at the planks of the bridge.

“What are you doing?” the boy demanded. “Come on, Malta, hurry up or we'll never get there. There's only three more bridges, and one trolley span.”

“Trolley span?” she asked weakly.

“You sit in a little box and yank yourself along on a pulley sort of thing. It's fun. You can go really fast.”

“Can you go really slow, too?”

“I don't know. I never tried that.”

“We'll try it tonight,” she said firmly. She took a shuddering breath and came to her feet. “Selden. I'm not used to the bridges yet. Could you go more slowly and not make them swing so much?”

“Why?”

“So your sister doesn't knock your head off,” she suggested.

“You don't mean that,” he informed her. “Besides, you'd never catch me. Here. Take my hand and don't think about it so much. Come on.”

His hand felt dirty and damp in hers. She held it tightly and followed him, her heart in her throat.

“Why do you want to go into the city, anyway?”

“I'm curious. I'd like to see it.”

“Why didn't Reyn take you?”

“He didn't have time today.”

“Couldn't he make time to take you tomorrow?”

“Could we just walk and not talk?”

“If you want.” He was silent for three breaths. “You don't want him to know you're doing this, do you?”

Malta hurried after him, trying to ignore the sickening sway of the bridge. Selden seemed to have the trick of timing his stride to it. She felt that that if she stumbled, she might go right over the edge. “Selden,” she asked quietly, “do you want Mama to know about you and the thick boats?”