Leaning forward, two fists on the table, the white-garbed noble spoke to his fellow aristocrats behind him even as his attention remained fixed on the Guildmasters. "My friends," he said deeply, "I feel as you do, you know this. But this is a most unusual gathering, and I'd very much like to hear the Guilds' reasons for arranging it."

"And they better be damn good ones," spat the Duchess Anneth of Orthessis. Behind her arose a muttered chorus of agreement.

Across the room, expressions of condescension turned to frowns of hesitation. Now that it was time, nobody wanted to be the first to speak.

Halmon cleared his throat irritably, and Tovin Annaras-master of the Cartographers' Guild-shuffled forward with little trace of his accustomed athletic step. Smiling shallowly, almost nervously, he took a moment to brush nonexistent dust from his pearl-hued doublet.

"Ah, my lords and ladies," he began, "I realize we've had more than our share of differences of late. I want to thank you for being willing to-"

"Oh, for the gods' sakes, man!" This from Edmund, a grey-haired, slouching fellow who bitterly resented his recent defeat at the hands of middle age. Edmund was Duke of Lutrinthus and a popular hero of the Serpent's War. "Our provinces are starving-not least because of you Guildmasters and your tariffs!-Cephira's massing along the border, and many of us had to travel more than a few leagues to be here. Would you please dispense with the false pleasantries and just come to it?"

Again, a rumble of assent from the blue-blooded half of the assemblage.

A lightning strike of emotion flashed across Tovin's face, from consternation to rage, and it was only a soothing word from behind that prevented him from shouting something angry and most likely obscene in the duke's face.

"Calm, my friend." Even whispered, Tovin knew the voice of Brilliss, slender mistress of the rather broadly named Merchants' Guild. "No turning back now."