The sky over Varoonya was dark, full of anguished, scurrying clouds driven by a nasty wind that made even the coziest corners feel uneasy and haunted. Yoor kept the windowpanes of his bay balcony firmly shut. Torly pulled the blanket tight around her waist as she lowered Enim's letter.

"Now that." Torly's voice was shaky. "That is too much."

Nin was hugging her knees.

Yoor licked his lips. "Kaya." He almost whispered. "They are destroying her livelihood. And threatening her, and even the wood merchants. With actual violence."

Nin got to her feet. She pulled at Torly's arm, her face pale, but her eyes determined. "Get up. We're going to call the recoursors."

"What?" Torly cleared her throat. "You can't call the recoursors, can you? They only get sent. By a court of deliberators, at the very end of a dispute, if at all. After all talks have failed, and after even the final say of the deliberators has been disrespected." Torly tilted her head. "The ones you call yourself if problems get too big to handle are the conciliators, right? They can host conversations, help people figure things out."

Yoor's gaze came back from the distant clouds. He moved in beside Torly. "You actually can call the recoursors directly, I think. In extreme, exceptional circumstances. When there is a direct threat of violence. Then they come and ensure no one gets hurt. Separate people first, talk later."

"Really?" Torly rubbed her chin. "Well, that's just what we need!" She turned to Nin, a question in her voice. "So how does one do that? Call the recoursors?"

Nin shrugged. "I have no idea. Let's go ask the conciliators, like a normal person. They should know what to do."

* * *

"Absolutely," the conciliator said, his round face shining. "The recoursors would do that."

Torly beamed at him.

"You just need to tell the local conciliators," the burly man continued.

Torly's smile fell.

The conciliator apologized. "We can't do anything from here, you see. We're only dealing with the city of Varoonya. You need to get the local conciliators involved."

"But that's just the problem!" Torly exclaimed. "There are no local conciliators! And no recoursors either."

The conciliator looked at her uncertainly. "Well, surely... I mean... at the very least..."

He was young, not yet thirty. The times before the Transition were a history book to him. He had never seen anything like this, never experienced it. No mental image was forming in his mind.

"But look," Torly tried again, "Varoonya is not only a city, it is also the capital. Surely someone here must feel responsible for the whole of Yurvania, and be able to intervene on behalf of remote regions that are in trouble?"

The conciliator wagged his head, slowly, irresolutely. His gaze drifted out the window, following the shadows of passers-by.

Finally, he turned back to his visitors. "You know what," he said with a mix of hesitation and daring, "I'll arrange a thing for you. A meeting with someone who... well... intervenes in unusual ways sometimes. People say. So... perhaps this what is called for."

* * *

Eyes cold as steel bore into Torly.

Torly did not flinch. "We need this! Now."

The old woman swirled around in a harsh, sudden move, coming to stand by the window, a picture of menace and austerity in her straight, black robe. "I see."

Zurres arched an eyebrow. "More than you think, perhaps."

She fixed Torly with her gaze. "You are young. But I have seen feudal times. I know what they were. And I recognize the signs."

Zurres's lips were a thin line. "But few people will. Young recoursors today only know small-scale problems, like handling one disturbed person in the middle of a healthy society. That can be dealt with rather easily."

Her eyes narrowed. "But what it means to have injustice rooted deep within the structure, few people will be able to grasp. What that is, and what kind of intervention it needs."

Zurres turned around. Her voice was impassive. "I will do what I can. I will try to prepare the recoursors and the deliberators. Find some who might be sympathetic. And, unlike me, able to initiate action."

She weighed the letter thoughtfully in her hand. "But I fear this will not be enough. They may want more proof."

She hissed her last words out between her teeth. "I only hope the proof does not come in the form of a dead body."

* * *

The door to Enim's room opened. Slunyew came in with a collar of snowflakes—and with fresh warmlings!

Enim beamed at him. "Slunyew! You are a true friend!"

Slunyew laughed. "And some more of these," he rumbled in his hoarse voice, dropping several papers onto the pile on Enim's desk.

Enim shoved the delightfully hot stones under the blanket that was tucked in beneath the desk's top, forming a cozy tent around his legs. As he bent down, he accidentally toppled the paper tower.

"Hey ho!" Slunyew caught it just in time.

"Thanks." Enim reappeared from underneath the table. "I promise I'll take care." He pulled the receptacle close. "And I'll also have all the people registered in here, at a pace even quicker than you're collecting." Enim gave Slunyew a roughish grin. "Even if that turns out increasingly difficult with you working in ever larger gangs."

* * *

Cahuan was already heading back to the Snuggery. A heavy box filled with baked potatoes hung from each of her shoulders, freshly fetched from one of the kitchens. Balancing the weight carefully, she maneuvered her way across the busy square toward her pedalcart.

Even in the cold, people were standing around in thickly cloaked flocks, chatting and laughing, drinking hot tea, singing a bit or exchanging skills and stories. Cahuan loved the liveliness of the plaza, the hum and the hubbub. In spite of the beam on her shoulders and a chilly bite in the air she smiled, lingering a little longer than necessary, letting her gaze roam over the crowd.

Which was how she saw Joonster. She almost dropped her yoke. With a hard thump, the boxes came to stand on the ground. Cahuan's heart was racing. With unseeing eyes, she stared down at the pottery displayed at the stall in front of her.

Cahuan tried to calm her uneven breath. What was the matter? Was there any reason for this kind of panic? It was Joonster, all right. She had every reason to be worried about Joonster. If he approached her in a dark corner. But here, in the plaza? He wasn't going to attack her in bright daylight in the middle of a crowd, was he?

But her heart was still beating rapidly. And she was still staring down blindly at the jars in front of her. Which also meant that she had lost sight of Joonster.

Cautiously, Cahuan raised her gaze to squint over to the stall where she had seen him.

He wasn't there.

Cahuan let out a deep sigh.

She bent her knees to arrange the yoke on her shoulders and regain her boxes. As she straightened up, she felt Joonster's breath in her neck.

"Take Kaya to dinner at the Sky Inn tonight," he whispered hoarsely. "Go very early, and stay until you hear word. You'll be glad you have come."

And he vanished into the crowd like a ghost.

* * *

"Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous," Kaya complained, not for the first time. She scanned the tables of the Sky Inn with angry eyes. "We have run straight into their trap. They only had to ask nicely, and we are happy to oblige." She snorted. "There is either nothing here, or danger. We must almost hope that it is nothing. Nothing at all. As we have been observing with great attention the whole evening." She shook her head. "What were we thinking? That some wonderful revelation would be waiting here for us? That one of Naydeer's minions had seen the light and changed sides to support the cause of justice? Proving an invaluable asset, but only if we show up here tonight? Ridiculous!"

To Cahuan's relief, a half-frozen Enim came in through the door at that moment. He nodded at them and ordered hot soup at the counter before settling onto the heated kang. From the back corner, Slunyew and Ngyrya shot a glance at him, then got up and walked out.

The cold night air hit them as they stepped through the door. Slunyew brought the flaps of his cap down over his white curls and blinked away tears as they moved on, cautiously, staying close to the walls of the courtyard. As quickly and noiselessly as possible, they flew up the outside stairs to the uppermost floor and helped each other climb up onto the roof from there. Lying low on the thatch, they wriggled forward until they found the woman who had shared Enim's shift and was still holding watch on the ridge, so that the roof would not be unoccupied even during their brief changing of the guard. She nodded at them. Nothing had happened. Nothing to be seen. "So good luck and enjoy your evening," she whispered with a smirk, sliding toward the staircase on stiff limbs.

Slunyew and Ngyrya separated, each taking position on one side of the roof, so they could see the courtyard and a pretty good part of the lanes leading up to the inn. If any hostile-looking groups were to approach, they would at least see them coming. And drop a traption with a magical flash in front of the Sky Inn window, a signal sure to be noticed by everyone inside.

So they had not come entirely unprepared, Cahuan reassured herself. They may still have run into a trap, but what sort of trap she could not possibly imagine. Just as she could not imagine very much else about this mystery rendezvous. Who was supposed to come? What was supposed to happen?

Cahuan had no idea. But she was determined to sit it out. It had been their joint decision to come, and now Cahuan wanted to see the end of it. Even if the end only meant that the Sky Inn eventually closed. The way things were going, she thought grimly, that might well be the first or only thing to happen.

All around her, an ordinary tavern evening was underway. A healing bag was meeting in one corner, a study group in another. Most tables were filled with board games or quiet conversation, and from the back room came the harmonious songs of a choir.

Cahuan picked up her mug and took a deep draft. And nearly choked when Pulan burst in through the door with a piercing whistle of alarm.

"Kaya! Your house is on fire!"

* * *

Flames licked up brightly into the sky. Kaya stood and watched the roof of her house cave in, the proud stacks of wood go up in smoke.

The red and gold of the fire burned through the night, with glowing embers falling from the sky, hanging on to the walls, coming down to earth. They ignited a new burst of flame around them, or darkened into a last deep red, a midnight black. Soot painted shadows across the walls, mingling with the ghosts of smoke that danced a raging feast around the oven.

Kaya bit her lip. That had been her house. Her home. And her livelihood. It was gone.