The office in Yar Nadrak of Silk and Yarblek's far-flung commercial empire was in a loft over a cavernous warehouse filled with bales of furs and deep-piled Mallorean carpets. The factor was a squinty-eyed Nadrak named Zelmit, who was probably almost as untrustworthy as he looked. Vella had never really liked him and she customarily loosened her daggers in their sheaths whenever she came into his presence, making very sure that he saw her doing so to be certain that there would be no misunderstandings. Technically, of course, Vella was one of Yarblek's possessions, and Zehmit had a reputation for making rather free with things that belonged to his employer.

"How's business?" Yarblek asked as he and Vella entered the cluttered little office.

"We're getting by," Zelmit said in a rasping voice.

"Specifics, Zelmit," Yarblek said brusquely. "Generalities make my teeth itch."

"We've found a way to bypass Boktor and evade Drasnian customs."

"That's useful."

"It takes a bit longer, but we can get our furs to Tol Honeth without paying Drasnian duties. Our profits in the fur market are up by sixty percent."

Yarblek beamed. "If Silk ever comes back through here, I don't think you really need to tell him about it," he cautioned. "Sometimes he breaks out in a rash of patriotism, and Porenn is his aunt, after all."

"I wasn't really thinking of telling him. We still have to carry the Mallorean carpets through Drasnia, though. The best market for those is still the great fair in central Arendia, and we can't pay anybody enough to get him to freight them across Ulgo-land." He frowned. "Someone's cutting the prices on us, though. Until we can find out what's going on, it might not be a bad idea to curtail our imports."

"Did you manage to sell off those gemstones I brought back from Mallorea?"

"Naturally. We smuggled them out and sold them here and there on our way south.”

"Good. It always depresses the market when you show up in one place with a bushel basket full of them. Do you know if Drosta's in the usual place tonight?"

Zelmit nodded. “He went there just before sundown.”

"Vella's going to need a sort of nondescript cloak," Yarblek said then.

Zelmit squinted at the girl.

Vella opened her fur coat and put her hands on the hilts of her daggers. "Why don't you go ahead and try it now, Zelmit?" she said. "Let's get it over with."

"I wasn't really planning anything, Vella," he said innocently. "I was just sizing you up, that's all."

"I noticed," she said dryly. "Did that cut on your shoulder ever heal?"

"It aches a little in damp weather," he complained.

"You should have kept your hands to yourself."

"I think I’ve got an old cloak that'll fit you. It's a little shabby, though."

"So much the better," Yarblek said. "We're going to the One-Eyed Dog and we'd like to sort of blend in."