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dismissing Lorn. Lorn takes in the near-empty side section where three young
enumerators share one table, and a gray-haired enumerator and a woman in
yellow sit in the corner. Then he moves slowly toward a table for two just
beyond the arch, set so that the light from dim oil lamps will leave his face
in shadow, yet from where he can watch both the traders in the larger center
room, and those who enter.
The serving girl-in gray, not yellow, and not even so old as Myryan-looks down
at him.  Same as last night?
Lorn nods, and she turns toward the back. No one even close to Shevelt s
description is in the tavern, nor has anyone been on the half-score occasions
over the past two eightdays when he has frequented the Chalice. His other
investigations and observations have been more fruitful, for which he is
grateful.
A woman in entertainer s yellow staggers away from a merchanter, pulling her
ripped gown up across her chest, then throws the contents of a mug in the
man s face. The man lurches to his feet, only to sit down as the bravo with
the truncheon-nearly five cubits of silent muscle-appears before him.
Loud laughter rolls out of the center room as the merchanter sits down
abruptly.
 & got you, Fysl, she did& and Wosyl ll have a silver for her gown, too, and
more if you re not watching your purse.
The serving girl in gray appears from the back, angling toward Lorn, who leans
back slightly, watching as she sets the mug on the table with a slight thump.
He eases three coppers into her hand. With a smile she steps away.
Lorn lifts the mug, but barely tastes the cheap red swill that passes for
table wine. His eyes flick across the foyer as another merchanter steps
inside, but the man is slender, and bent, and turns to the left, where he
joins the couple waiting there.
 Fellow& seen you around& you the other enumerator for the red bitch? calls
the brown-haired and round-faced enumerator from the table of three.
 Ryalor, you mean?
 Ryalor-you really think there s anyone but her? The round-faced man laughs.
 Her and two enumerators-that s all anyone sees.
 What about all the traders, Bercatl? asks the man to the inquirer s left.
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 Lots of  em, and they don t trade  less there s coins.
Lorn shrugs and waits for a moment, until the men at the other table are
silent.  Met her partner once. He s quiet. She listens to him. Don t know much
about him.
The round-faced enumerator asks,  You serious?
Lorn nods.  Told me not to say much, but I figure it doesn t matter if folks
know he s real. He travels a lot.
The other two nod at their companion.  See. Told you, Bercatl. That s why they
get contracts. She s safe here, and he s greasing the wheels in the outports.
That s what they do in Tuylyn House, too, but they got teams that do the
outports.
 & can t& 
 & Eileyt bets the House is bigger than anyone knows& 
 & cause he works for  em& 
 And who else d know?
Lorn looks past the three, politely, and the words die away. His eyes center
on the archway, and the full merchants beyond.
Following an uneasy and lingering silence, the enumerators resume their
conversation.
 & Hamorians wouldn t trade fair without the fireships& 
 & pretty fair& coins talk, too.
After a time, Lorn stands, leaves a copper by the goblet, and nods to the
enumerators as he starts to leave the Silver Chalice. A few whispered words
follow him.
 & more than an enumerator. Walks like a bravo& 
 Looking for someone, he is& 
 & wouldn t want to be the one he finds.
 Wouldn t want to be him if he finds what he s looking for, either& 
 For a little house& got some scary folk there& 
Lorn hopes they continue to think so as he slips out.
He stops by his parents dwelling, the lower garden only, to cache the sabre
and the golden dagger, before hurrying back along the Road of Perpetual Light
and thence downhill toward Ryalth s. The western sky is still partly greenish
purple when he reaches Ryalth s quarters and rings the small trade bell.
Ryalth doesn t bother with the privacy screen, but opens the door and takes
his hand.  You re later tonight.
Lorn offers an embarrassed smile.  Father hasn t been the same since the Ocean
Flame explosion. I stayed and talked to him for a bit. He protested that I
wasn t spending much time with the family. All of what he says is true, but
he is aware of how close to his fingers he sharpens his blade, particularly
given that Ryalth is far more sensitive than most merchanters.
She closes the door, and they walk toward the table.  I fixed some emburhka.
It s warm, still.
 Thank you. It will be good. He smiles as he seats himself.  I wish I could
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