“You should put a cold rag on it,” Mari said from the refuge of her bed. Her voice quavered, like it did when she was upset. “Mam, you always say that takes the swelling down.”

Han glanced over at Mari, wishing he and Mam could take their fight somewhere else. But when you live in one room over a stable, there’s nowhere to go.

“Who was it this time?” Mam demanded. “The gangs or the Guard? Or did you pick one too many pockets?”

“I an’t lifting purses anymore,” Han protested, stung. “Nor diving pockets, neither. I wouldn’t—”

“You said you were going after plants for the Flatlander Market,” Mam said. “Did you even go up on Hanalea? Or were you out running the streets the whole time?”

“I went up on Hanalea,” Han said, struggling to control his temper. “Me and Dancer spent all day gathering herbs on the mountain.”

Mam eyed him narrowly, then extended her hand. “You should have some money for me, then.”

Han thought of his purse, now in Shiv’s possession. He still had Lucius’s money, but—like he kept saying—he wasn’t a thief. He swallowed hard, looking down at the floor. “I don’t have any money,” he said. “It got taken from me in Southbridge.”

Mam’s breath hissed out, like he’d confirmed all her worst fears. “You’re cursed, Hanson Alister, and you’ll come to a bad end,” she said. “It’s no wonder you’re in trouble when you’re out on the streets all day long. When you run with street gangs, thieving and robbing…”

“I’m not with the Raggers anymore,” Han interrupted. “I promised you back in the fall.”

Mam plowed on as if he hadn’t spoken. “When you take up with ill-favored sorts like Lucius Frowsley. We may be poor, but at least we’ve always been honest.”

Something broke loose inside Han, and when he opened his mouth the words came spilling out. “We’re honest? Well, honest won’t fill our bellies. Honest doesn’t pay the rent. It’s been me supporting us for the past year, and it’s a lot harder without slide-hand. Be my guest if you think you can keep us out of debtor’s prison taking in washing and picking rags. And if we do go to prison, what do you think will happen to Mari?”

Mam stood speechless, eyes very blue, her lips as white as the rest of her face. Then she snatched up a stick from the kindling pile and swung it at him. Reflexively, he gripped her wrist and held it. They glared at each other for a long moment, married by blood and anger. Slowly the anger drained away, leaving only the linkage of blood.

“I’m not going to let you hit me anymore,” Han said quietly. “I’ve already had one beating today. That’s enough.”