Vai’s hand settled possessively on the small of my back as he stepped up beside me. “I believe we have not been formally introduced,” he said in his most coolly belligerent tone. “I am Magister Andevai Diarisso of Four Moons House. Perhaps you will be so kind as to inform my wife and me why you are here.”

The infamous radical called black-haired Brennan had a history of fighting, whether in taverns or in the service of his radical philosophy. He also had a brilliantly charming grin, which he deployed with blinding good humor as he approached Vai with an outstretched hand in the radical manner, man to man as an equal.

“Magister! It is an honor to make your acquaintance formally. You must have quite a rousing tale to tell, if everything Beatrice has told me is true.”

Good manners won out, as they always did with Vai when it came to the point. He shook hands, but watched like a wire strung taut as Brennan shook my hand.

“She told me to look for the tailor shop opposite Queedle and Clutch.”

I just could not stop grinning. “Where are Bee and Rory? Can I go to them right away?”

“Immediately!” When Brennan turned that smile on me, I realized he was striking in large part because he was at ease in himself. He was not burdened by the insecurities and vanities that plagued Andevai.

“Let me finish here before we go,” said Vai, again settling a hand against my back.

“No need to accompany us if it’s any trouble for you, Magister.” Brennan examined Vai with a distinct crinkle of laughter about his eyes. “I will return your wife to you by nightfall.”

“It is no trouble for me to accompany you,” said Vai in a fruitless attempt to sound unconcerned: His tone came off as threatening. “Indeed, I insist on it.”

“You can’t wish to wear that dash jacket in public,” I said.

Unfortunately the tailor sailed into the breach. “I have the other dash jacket ready, Magister, if you will just come back with me to try it on. I assure you, it will fit exactly as you wish.”

I followed Vai back behind the screen, where we chanced to have a few moments alone as the tailor went to the wardrobe to fetch the other garment.

“I don’t know that I would call him the handsomest man I ever met,” he muttered with such ill temper that I was tempted to smack him. “But the enchanting smile has a certain stark effect.”

“Jealousy ill becomes you,” I whispered as I unbuttoned his jacket.

He glared.

“Also, I don’t like it.” I slipped the fourteenth button free and pressed my hands to his shirt, beneath the jacket. “It makes it look as if you don’t trust me.”

His chest heaved. “Of course I trust you.”

“Do you?”