Jarveena read and wrote her native tongue well: Yenized. That was why Melilothad agreed to hire her. No competing service in Sanctuary could offer so manylanguages now. But two months might go by - indeed, they had just done so without a single customer's asking for a translation into or from Yenized, whichmade her pretty much of a status symbol. She was industriously struggling withRankene, the courtly version of the common dialect, because merchants liked tolet it be thought their goods were respectable enough for sale to the nobilityeven if they had come ashore by night from Scavengers' Island, and she wasmaking good headway with the quotidian street-talk in which the poorer clientswanted depositions of evidence or contracts of sale made out. Nonetheless shewas still obliged to take on menial tasks to fill her time.

It was noon, and another such task was due.

Plainly, it was of little use relying on inscriptions to reach those who weremost in need of a scribe's assistance; accordingly Melilot maintained a squad ofsmall boys with peculiarly sweet and piercing voices, who paraded up and downthe nearby streets advertising his service by shouting, wheedling, and sometimesbegging. It was a tiring occupation, and the children frequently grew hoarse.Thrice a day, therefore, someone was commanded to deliver them a nourishingsnack of bread and cheese and a drink made of honey, water, a little wine orstrong ale, and assorted spices. Since her engagement, Jarveena had been leastoften involved in other duties when the time for this one arrived. Hence she wason the street, distributing Melilot's bounty, when an officer whom she knew byname and sight turned up, acting in a most peculiar manner. He was Captain AyeGophlan, from the guardpost at the corner of Processional Way.

He scarcely noticed her as he went by, but that was less than surprising. She