“If it was us I was writing up in the racing form,” said Cross, “I’d give better numbers. But you’re gonna dump my rear and go sailing off to Amberlough for what, the season?”

“I’m not sure,” said Aristide, light and brittle as spun sugar. “I haven’t planned so far ahead.”

“I wish I’d ever gotten knocked so hard my brains fell out the back,” said Cross. “I guess DePaul’s still got the tackle for deep-sea fishing after all this time.”

The secret had yet to be whispered that could be kept from Merrilee Cross. Aristide let the uncouth comment slide, though it scraped off a layer of skin. Daoud, however, did not.

“Ms. Cross,” he said, crisply as creased waxed paper, “perhaps we should focus on the positive parts of this situation. For instance, I believe our business interests in Amberlough are due for an expansion?”

“Indeed,” said Aristide. “Since we’re losing Ngdoze, Otiuno, and the rest, it seems an excellent time to focus on our Geddan offices and ventures. Jamila is too clever to languish doing busywork.”

“Well, I won’t miss Otiuno, that’s for sure.” Cross ground out her cigarillo in the overflowing ashtray at the center of the table. “He never did pay on time. And Jamila’s last cable said she’s got a good lead on a company that can move our goods inland. If you’re gonna leave me here to get hacked up, might as well make some money over there for my heirs and assigns.” Cross sucked her teeth. “It ain’t a bad idea.”

“Contrary to your belief, my brain still resides safely in my skull.” He tapped the arm of his spectacles with one finger, then straightened them on his nose.

“The idea,” said Daoud, “was mine.”

The scolding caught Aristide off guard, and the apologetic grin he aimed at Daoud felt more like a wince on his face.

Cross raised an eyebrow, but only asked “When do you leave?”

“Two days,” said Daoud, sliding into the opening she had left for Aristide. “It is a fast ship, and the canal has been reopened. You should dock in Amberlough City early next week. I have cabled Ms. DePaul; she will meet you in the city for the ceremony.”

“And what about Mister DePaul?” asked Cross, picking an errant piece of tobacco from her tongue. “I don’t trust you past your jess if that tow-headed turncoat has a hand free to haul down his zipper. Stones, I wouldn’t trust you even if he was in shackles. Maybe less.”

Aristide was still composing a response behind his shaved-thin smile when Daoud asked, “And if I went with him?”

“What?” Instantly, Aristide had reason to wish he’d hidden his outrage better. It wasn’t that the younger man looked hurt; rather that he looked a tad too smug for Aristide’s liking.