He inched around the inside of the curve, pressed to the wall. The other side of the hall was empty. His nerves settled again. Through the window slits, guards walked the perimeter, and stood watch on the estate walls. He was being foolish. If anyone saw him so terrified, they’d laugh. He stilled himself so the shell died down. To be in fear was a sure way to die, the master of Isilmyr had said to his cohort one day, before Maunyn’s time as master. The goddess can’t help the fearful for long. That is why Mornae killed quickly and with all their strength. Do not allow time for fear, for doubt. It will sap you of what strength you have.

His limbs were sluggish and longed for the orchard, for the warmth of its dark embrace. He entered his chamber and glanced at the bed. He should rest.

“You have nice moves on you,” a voice said from behind. “For a merchant.”

Taul turned to the corner behind him. He’d not bothered to check.

“Ah, ah,” the intruder said. “Stay put or you’ll force me to gut you. And I haven’t come for that.”

Taul held his hands away from his body, fingers open.

“Good, that’s good,” the intruder said. “You’re a smart one.”

“You’re quite skilled yourself, for an assassin,” Taul said through gritted teeth. “Ren, is it?”

“Ah, did you really say that?” Ren asked, poking Taul’s back with a dagger. “I’m just trying to make a living. How’d you learn my name? Seems we both know a little too much about each other.”

“Perhaps it’s fate,” Taul said, his eyes stinging. The shell didn’t rise, only a shadowy itch across his skin. The last defense of a Mornae, the heritage of even the least of them. Sufficient for a nomad’s weapon, for the first strike at least.

Ren chuckled. “Funny you say that. Fate’s been unkind to me lately.”

“And to Deedra Lor’Briznil as well,” Taul said.

Ren jabbed him again. Taul winced at the sting.

“Why do you have to say it that way?” Ren asked.

“I should slay you here and now!”

“You can try, milord.”

Nervous sweat trickled down Taul’s temples and his skin stung. At any moment, this assassin would tire of him and pierce his back. The tip had already settled between two ribs. This rogue knew his business.

Ren sighed. “It was an accident. I never meant to do that. I thought it was you. Didn’t think I saw you sneaking about?”

Taul bowed his head.

“Ah, I see you feel guilty for her, too,” Ren said. “Good, because you share at least half the blame.”

Taul scowled and turned his head to spew a curse at Ren’s face. The knife slid across the back of his tunic, cutting through the cloth.

“Stay put, milord,” Ren said.

“I’m no lord, and you know it.”

“Who is then? Not me, surely.”

“Your master?”

“Ah, there you go again,” Ren complained, “making this harder and harder.”

“If you’re here to kill me, why draw it out? Just leave the Naukvyrae symbol and be done with it.”

“What do they have to do with anything?” Ren asked.

His voice was strained now. Taul had to be careful.

“They know about you,” he said.

Ren wheezed behind him, a pathetic little whine. “I’m not here to kill you, if you must know.”

“Can I sit then? I’m exhausted.”

“You should practice more. That’s why you’re tired. You burn too hot and fast.”

“Can I sit there?” Taul asked, pointing to a chair.

“Sure, why not,” Ren said.

Taul slumped into the chair, the blade hanging limply from his hand.

“Toss that on the bed,” Ren said, and Taul obliged.

“What is it you want, then?”

“I must make amends, Taul Lor’Toshtolin.”

In the past, Taul might have smirked at a commoner’s formality, like he was true Mornae, but not now, not after all he’d seen. Instead, he sat up, earnest, and asked, “How do you plan to do it?”

“By getting you what you most need. By helping you save your house—a true house, a house that does no wrong and makes trees grow where they shouldn’t. Isn’t it time for a house like yours to win?”

The words spilled out of the rogue, and tears welled in his eyes.

“How many children have you taken for Maunyn?” Taul asked.

“Not for him. For the high matron. She’s the one who wants them. Maunyn mostly makes them.”

Taul masked his shock and surprise. “What is this all for? Surely not for chits.”

Ren scoffed. “They pay… sometimes enormous amounts. Makes no sense. But I don’t ask, right?”

“No, of course not.”

“And they make little sense.”

“What?”

“The children. Some are handsome, what you’d think a Mornae should be and others not. I thought I understood, but then gave up.” Ren shook his head. “No sense at all.”