“If crushed up and swallowed, it takes the place of an injured heart valve. Feed it every day with a cup of black coffee and a raspberry tart, and it will provide you long and boisterous life.”

The laman squinted, stroking their chin. “Why would you sell such a marvel?”

“I already have a full set,” Baru boasted, pounding her tiny chest. “I’m immortal. All I ask is a fee of twenty reef pearls, and a signed contract releasing me from all indemnity and malfeasance!”

“Hmm.” From their purse the laman extracted fifteen reef-pearl coins, making Baru squeak in greed, and held the coins over Baru’s head in a closed fist.

“Fifteen,” the laman offered, “and no contract.”

“Twenty! And I must have the contract, I am a legitimate businesswoman!”

“Fifteen,” the laman repeated, and their warm eyes narrowed. “And a lesson, given freely. You have a wonderful soul, child, and the Door in the East must have swung wide to let you into the world. Tell your stories as you please! The world is made of stories, which bind us all together, and impossible stories are the best of all, for they bind us in impossible ways. But remember—remember this well.

“When you use a story to deceive in your own service, the world remembers what you have done. The world knows trim, which is the power that binds. And trim will make your own story echo the stories you tell to others. If you deceive those around you, you will in the end deceive yourself, to your own grief.

“Do you understand?

“Do you understand?”

*   *   *

“HELLO there!” the Prince called. “Are you guests of Faham Execarne?”

Despite their burden of bundles and gifts, and their obvious exhaustion, they spoke in a high clear voice, each word pronounced with thought and care. Brightly, Baru thought, they spoke brightly.

“We are,” Baru called, “we’ve come to help you up the trail, Your Federal Highness.”

“Don’t call me that,” the laman said, “and please don’t lie, either, it’s dreadful luck to lie at first meeting.”

Baru drew up short. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not a guest of Mister Execarne’s farm. You came in on Helbride yesterday, you turned over the harbormaster’s records, caused an exchange panic, and asked my spy to see me.”

Baru shot a victorious little ha at Xe: see, a spymaster! Xe shrugged.

“You came very promptly,” Baru said, “and I’m surprised you’re alone.”

“How else would I come? You only invited me.”

“With security, I’d think.”