TISALASLEPT MOST OF THE DAY, AND AWOKE THEfollowing morning feeling much better, especially after she ate the enormous breakfast that had been left to cool by her bedside. When she finished eating, she stretched out gingerly. Sweat poured off her forehead anyway, but when she was finished, most of her stiffness was gone.

Ward’s staff, which she took from its place against the wall near his sword, was too long. Her left hand, as Oreg had speculated, wouldn’t grip right, so she had to alter some of the steps accordingly.

Stala came in without knocking as Tisala was in the middle of turning a slow cartwheel using the staff as an extension of her hands. If the ceiling had been lower, or the room smaller, it wouldn’t have worked.

“Not a particularly useful move,” Stala observed dryly.

Landing lightly on her feet, Tisala smiled neutrally. “I’ve found itvery useful in my line of work. In the middle of the second act, the warrior goddess teaches the hero how to defeat the emperor’s evil wizard. It doesn’t bring in much, but it pays for my room and board.”

“You’ve been acting?”

“Ward’s told you about what I was doing in Estian,” said Tisala. It was a safe enough guess. Now that she wouldn’t be able to go back to it, there was no harm in Ward’s aunt knowing about her role. “As Haverness’s daughter I couldn’t work—not and keep my status as a lady, but being a spy is an expensive lifestyle.”

Her father had sent her money once, but she’d told him not to do it again. The chances of someone making the connection were too great—and Jakoven would love to have an excuse to take Haverness for treachery.

Tisala continued, “One of the men at the inn where I stayed was an actor; he got me the part. I wear a mask, and the theater’s in a district not overrun with nobles anyway.”

Stala nodded her understanding. “Ward told me that you can use a sword—high praise. Can you use a staff as well?”

Tisala shook her head. “Not right now. This staff’s too long, but I suspect my left hand’s not up to it even with one the right size.”

Stala examined the hand in question, turning it this way and that.

“The sooner you start pushing it, the sooner it’ll recover,” she said at last, returning Tisala’s hand. “I think we can find a better fit for you than Ward’s weapon. That boy could use a tree trunk. The Guard is working with staff today in the bailey. I’ve a Seaforder, several Tallvens, and a few Avinhellish men, but we’ve not had an Oranstonian here in my memory. It would do the men good to see the difference between Oranstone style and ours.”