“Here, Ella,” Lynnette said, bringing an old kirtle for her to put on. The dress was little more than a rag, worn thin and frayed along the hem. Lynnette also brought Esrahaddon’s robe. Arista went around the corner and slipped out of her wet things. Lynnette’s dress did nothing to keep out the cold, but the robe vanquished the wet chill instantly in uncompromising warmth.

“That’s really a wonderful robe, Ella,” Lynnette told her, marveling at how the firelight made it shimmer and reflect colors. “Where did you get it?”

“A … friend left it to me when he died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sadly. Her expression changed then from one of sadness to one of concern. “That reminds me, a man was looking for you.”

“A man?” Arista asked as she folded the tablecloth. If anything happened to it, Edith would make Ibis pay.

“Yes, earlier today. He spoke to Brice while he was working on the street, and mentioned he was looking for a young woman. He described you perfectly, although oddly enough, he didn’t know your name.”

“What did he look like?” Arista hoped her concern was not reflected in her voice.

“Well,” Lynnette faltered, “that’s the thing. He wore a dark hood and a scarf wrapped about his face, so Brice didn’t get a good look at him.”

Arista pulled the robe tightly about her.

Is he here? Has the assassin managed to track me down?

Lynnette noticed the change in her and asked, “Are you in trouble, Ella?”

“Did Brice tell him I lived here?”

“No, of course not. Brice is many things, but he’s no fool.”

“Did he give a name?”

Lynnette shook her head. “You can ask Brice about him when he returns. He and Wery went to buy flour. They should be back soon.”

“Speaking of that,” Arista said, fishing coins out of her wet dress, “here’s three copper tenents. They paid me this morning.”

“Oh no. We couldn’t—”

“Of course you can! You let me sleep under your wagon, and you watch my things when I’m at work. You even let me eat with you.”

“But three! That’s your whole pay, Ella. You won’t have anything left.”

“I’ll get by. They feed me at the palace sometimes, and my needs are pretty simple.”

“But you’ll want a new set of clothes, and you’ll need shoes come winter.”

“So will your children, and you won’t be able to afford them without an extra three coppers a week.”

“No, no—we can’t. It’s very nice of you, but—”

“Ma! Ma! Come quick! It’s Wery!” Finis, the Barkers’ eldest son, raced down the street, shouting as he came. He looked frightened, his eyes filled with tears.