“Very well,” Reyn agreed reluctantly. He found his own cloak, still wet from an earlier outing, shook it out, and slung it around his shoulders. “I wish Selden were here. He is the one who should be handling this.”

“I just wish I knew where he was. It has been months now since we’ve heard from him. That last letter he sent didn’t sound like him, and it didn’t look like his hand to me. I fear something has befallen him. Yet even if my brother were here, I’d still have to go, Reyn.”

“I know that, my dear. We were raised in the old ways of the Traders, you and I. But even I wonder if we keep faith with a dead dragon. No one has seen her or heard rumor of her for years, now. Is she is dead and our agreements dead with her?”

Malta shook her head stubbornly as she lifted the large hood of her cloak and set it carefully on her pinned hair. “Contracts are written on paper, not air, and signed with ink, not breath. It does not matter to me if she is dead. Regardless of what others may do, we remain bound by our signed words.”

Reyn sighed. “Actually, we said only that we would help the serpents and protect the serpents’ cases until the dragons hatched from them. In which case, our part of the bargain is done.” He grimaced as he pulled up the wet hood of his cloak.

“I was raised to keep the spirit of an agreement, not just the letter of it,” Malta responded tartly. Then, as she realized it was her aching back that was driving her to quarrel with him over their old disagreement, she changed the subject slightly. “I wonder if that woman has returned safely, that Alise Finbok. She gave me such comfort and heart on the day she said she would go with them. She spoke so confidently and learnedly about Kelsingra.”

Malta turned to look at her husband. His eyes were a lambent blue within his hood’s shadows. He spoke reluctantly. “I’ve heard rumors that she was actually fleeing her husband and running off with his servant. There was some talk that her husband had disowned her, but that her father and the servant’s family were seeking news of them, even offering a reward for any word.”

Malta felt a pang of deep dismay. She pushed it aside. “I don’t care about any of that. She spoke like someone well versed in ancient things. The way she described the city, it was as if she had already walked there. She might have been fleeing her husband; she would not be the first wife to do so. But I think she was also bound toward something. So. Let’s go out into the rain and down to the Council Hall. We’ll learn no more about the expedition standing here.”