‘And what would you know about it?’ Tynisa snapped, the words bursting from her against her will. She knew about the Commonweal, for all that she’d never been there. She knew because the moral standards of the Commonweal – those strict, self-punishing demands that it made of its people – had driven to his death someone that she had loved dearly. He had been too honourable, and the world had not been able to live with him. So he had died. She found that to hear this bloated woman carp on about the shortcomings of the Dragonfly-kinden was more than she could bear. In her heart the poison was stirring restlessly.

Ma Leyd’s expression became as stony as her home. ‘I saw all too much of the Commonweal, dear, when I travelled across it to find where the Empire had left my husband’s corpse.’

‘So you’ve seen the occupied principalities. That’s not the real Commonweal at all,’ Tynisa shot back, quite happy to take this woman on in whatever field of combat she preferred. She discovered that she was standing, though she had no memory of rising to her feet. Even so, she was forced to look up in order to lock eyes with the sitting Mole Cricket. Her hand itched.

In measured stages, the enormous woman also stood. ‘You’d best not tell me what I know, dear. ’ She was surely strong enough to tear Tynisa limb from limb, but the rapier’s whisper told her that speed would defeat strength always, so she tensed…

‘Enough!’ Allanbridge burst out, leaping to his feet as well. ‘You,’ he said, jabbing a finger at Tynisa, ‘you want to be on my ship tomorrow, you go outside and cursed well keep your mouth to yourself.’

Tynisa stared mutinously at him, grappling with the frustrated anger within her, but already she was regretting her outburst. Her temper seemed to be a thing apart these days, something she had less and less control of. Her hand twitched again, belated and unbidden, near her rapier hilt.