“Selden,” Reyn said harshly. “Her little brother. He's been all over Trehaug with Wilee Crane. Sa knows I've chased Wilee out of the city a score of times. Her brother would know the way in by now, if he has been playing with Wilee. Where's Selden?”

“I don't know,” his mother admitted it with dread.

Bendir broke in without apology. “There are people who are definitely buried in the city, Reyn. The Satrap and his Companion, not to mention the Vintagli family's digging crew. They had just begun excavating a chamber near the one where they found the butterfly murals. At least two other families had night crews at work down there. We don't have time to worry about those who might be down there. We need to concentrate on the ones we know are down there.”

“I know Malta is down there,” Reyn said bitterly. “And I know where. The Crowned Rooster Chamber. I told you that last night. I'm going after her first.”

“You can't!” Bendir barked, but Jani cut him off.

“Don't argue. Reyn, come and dig. The main tunnel leads toward both the Crowned Rooster Chamber and the apartments we allotted to the Satrap. Work together and you can get access to both.”

Reyn gave his brother a betrayed look. “If only you'd listened to me last night,” he said accusingly.

“If only you'd been sober last night,” Bendir retorted. He turned on his heel and left the room. Jani and Reyn hastened after him.

UNSTACKING THE BOATS TO FIND THE BEST ONE WAS A DIFFICULT TASK IN the tight space of the collapsed boathouse. After she had chosen the best one, getting it outside proved even more of a task. Kekki was virtually useless. When her weeping finally stilled, it was because she had fallen asleep. The Satrap made an effort, but it was like being assisted by a large child. He had no concept of physical work. She tried to keep her temper with him, even reminding herself that last year she had been just as ignorant.

He was afraid of the work. He would not grip the wood, let alone put real muscle into dragging the boat out. With an effort, Malta held her tongue. By the time they had managed to get the boat out of the cleft and onto the leaf-strewn ground outside, she was completely exhausted. The Satrap brushed his hands and beamed down on the boat as if he had brought it out himself. “Well,” he declared with satisfaction. “That's done it. Fetch some oars and we're off.”

Malta had sunk down to the ground and leaned back against a tree. “Don't you think,” she asked, fighting to hold back the sarcasm, “that we should see if it still floats first?”

“Why shouldn't she?” He put a foot on the boat's prow possessively. “She looks fine to me.”

“Wood shrinks when it's out of water. We should put it in shallow water, and let the wood swell up a bit and see how much water it ships. If you have never heard before, I'll tell you now. The water of the Rain Wild River eats wood. And flesh. If it doesn't float high and dry, we'll need to put something in the bottom to rest our feet on. Besides, I'm too exhausted to row anywhere just now, and we aren't sure where we are. If we wait until dusk, we may be able to see the lights of Trehaug through the trees. That would save us a lot of time and effort.”

He stood, looking down at her, balanced between offense and consternation. “Are you refusing to obey me?”

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “Do you want to die on the river?” she asked.

He bridled at that. “Do not dare to speak to me as if you were a Companion!”

“Perish the thought,” Malta agreed with him. She wondered if anyone else had ever dared to disagree with him before. With a groan, she got to her feet. “Help me,” she said, and began to shove the boat toward the swamp. His help consisted in taking his foot off the prow. She ignored that. She put the boat in shallow standing water. There was no line to tie it up, but there was no current to draw it away either. She hoped it would stay there, and was suddenly too weary to worry any more about it.

She looked at the Satrap, who was still glaring at her. “If you're going to stay awake, maybe you could find some oars. And you might keep an eye on the boat so it does not float away. It's the best of the lot that was down there, and none too good at that.” She wondered at her tone, and then as she lay down on the earth and closed her eyes, she identified it. That was how her grandmother had always spoken to her. She understood why, now. She ached all over, and the ground was hard. She slept.

REYN HAD NOT CONVINCED THEM; HE HAD SIMPLY GONE ON. IF HE HAD waited for them to completely clear and shore up the main passage before advancing along it, Malta would certainly be dead before he got to her. He had wormed his way past two blocking falls and finally reached a portion of the main passage that was still intact when he came to the end of the thin line he had been paying out. He set a large chunk of fallen rock atop it. He had paused to mark his sign on the wall with star-chalk. The stuff would show well in even the faintest light. They would know he had been there and gone on. He had marked his passage through the falls, indicating the best places to start the re-excavation. He had an instinct for these things.