One of the men broke away and swung at Tehidy. Thom lifted him by his collar, and tossed him over his shoulder to thud into a stone wall.

"You want to play, too?" he asked the other brawler, who shook his head rapidly, ducked under Tehidy, and was gone.

"I see you've lost none of your strength," Gareth said, as they went through the crowd to a table where only a drunk snored, his head in a pool of wine.

Knoll unceremoniously pushed him onto the floor, whistled shrilly through his fingers, and a barmaid saw him.

"Aye, m'love," she shouted over the din. "The usual?"

"The usual a and some iced water?"

"You've not bathed?"

"For my friend here the virgin."

The drinks arrived. Gareth noted that Thom sat with his back against a wall, and Knoll half-turned, to watch the room.

"My uncle told you all of me," Gareth said. "It's your turn now."

With Thom interrupting, when he thought Knoll wasn't being properly fulsome about himself, Gareth learned the two boys had indeed been taken in by another village.

"But *twasn't like our own," Knoll said. "They thought they'd brought in a couple of servies, almost slaves."

"Busting our ass in the fishhold with the nets," Thom agreed. "And with not a share in the price, but only a handful of coppers and a bit of silver now and then."

But that hadn't been the worst. The village was one of those who owed tribute to the king, and the tribute was paid with two young men, every year or so, for the navy when the impressment officers came along.

"Even if you hadn't been so down on serving the king," Knoll said, "there were enough time-served men in the village with their tales of shipwreck, wormy biscuit, and battle to discourage us."

" *Twasn't the wreck and battle so much," Thom put in. " *Twas that when they were used up and washed up, the king's service threw them out without a coin, without a pension, without anything except the clothes on their back, to make their way back home, and sit damned near begging at the door. Not like pirating, where, if you're lucky, you can walk away from the sea with gold and jewels, eh?"

"Naturally," Gareth said, "you two being outsiders, the minute you got old enough for the king, you were the target."

"You've lost none of your quickness of wit," Knoll said. "And so we ran, ran to Ticao, figuring there'd be chance enough here for everyone.

"There's chance, for certain," he said, a bit gloomily. "Just enough to keep you from starving, not enough to make you rich, and there seems to always be someone in the way."

"Like the godsdamned Waterman's Guild," Thom said. "It's not satisfying to them for us to learn the landings, and the river, and the current, and find a boat that somebody'll sell you at ruinous rates, and then make it pretty so men and women with gold'll sit on your cushions and let you row *em back and forth and up and down.

"No. You apply to the Guild, and in their own good time, perhaps they let you in. Or perhaps not. In the meantime, you can starve for all of them. Or work the downriver landings, where there's never any custom."

"If they find you pushing your way in at a landing where good fares await," Knoll put in, "they're not above stoving your boat in, or pushing you overside, or even tapping you along the head with a pig of iron and seeing if you can float all the way downriver to the ocean. Facedown."

"Not that they've ever tried any of that shit on us," Thom said grimly. "A couple thought they could, back six months, when we first went on the river, and found themselves wet and overturned. And then, when they thought all was settled, somebody waited on them at their slip and wanted to carry on the discussion."

"But that didn't make us any better loved by the Guild," Knoll agreed. "So we're keeping ourselves fed a but look at our clothes. Hardly the finest, which is what attracts the big custom. And our boat could do with a haul out and re-caulking, which we can't afford either."

"And we sure aren't living in a mansion, either," Thom said, then brightened as he upended his jack of ale, and signaled for another. "But if there's beer in the cask, all can't be bad."

"Still, Ticao is far better than being in that damned village," Knoll said, "hauling fish from now to the grave."

Tehidy turned somber.

"Perhaps. Perhaps. But I'll still never forget what drove us out of our homes."

"Of course not," Knoll said. "Once, maybe twice, I thought I could sneak up on one of those damned Slavers and give him swimming lessons. But once the man got away, and the next time there were too many of them, even though Thom said once we got among them they'd think we were a throng."

"I've done a little good in that direction," Gareth said, and, without heroics, told them of his crusade. At the end of his story Tehidy, good humor restored, roared laughter.

"Good, good, Gareth. And it's better seeing you, and seeing how things are going so well for you."

Gareth started to say something that, now he knew where his friends were, things'd be better for them, as well. He had more than a sufficiency of gold saved, and thought N'b'ry-Tehidy Water Ferrymen might benefit from a silent partner.

But that could wait until later.

They talked of other things, including the specifics of what had driven Gareth into his odd form of semi-exile, and Gareth found himself telling them of Cosyra and the charm.

"Damn me," Tehidy said. "That's romantic. And you haven't used the spell?"

"No."

"Why not?" Knoll said.

"I'm a not sure," Gareth said. "Maybe I'm afraid it won't work a or that it will, and I won't like what it shows me."

"Reach down," Thom said, "below your belt. Between your legs."

"Why?" Gareth said.

"Just do as I say, dammit!"

Gareth obeyed.

"And what do you feel?"

"Why a my balls, of course."

"Good!" Tehidy said. "Thought you'd lost them for a minute. Don't you think it's best to bang *em together and see what happens?"

Gareth drank water, and nodded slowly, twice.

"It is," he said. "It surely is."

a a a It took Gareth a time to discover how the sea eagle charm worked. At first, he thought Cosyra's wizard had tricked her, and taken her money without providing any service. But then he realized when the eagle's beak was pointed in a certain direction, the amulet warmed. Turned away, it grew instantly cold.

Gareth had waited to make the test for two days, while his body finally wreaked revenge, and he did nothing but eat and sleep.

After sunset on the fourth night, he put on a dark cloak and started out. Then he'd stopped, remembering his enemy a" who, most ironically, he'd never even seen a" and borrowed from his uncle's extensive armory a short-barreled pistol with a bore almost as big as two of his fingers together. He loaded it, lit the slow match and covered it, and went out into the windy night.

He assumed his quest would lead him toward the river, and possibly even across, into the slums. Instead, the eagle's beak led north and slightly west, toward the great hill which was crowned by the king's castle.

Gareth lost his way twice, following the eagle instead of the twisting alleys and ending against solid stone walls. He retraced his steps, and then the eagle grew warm, warmer.

He looked about, realized he was in a wealthy district.

If the charm is working, and is real he thought, Cosyra is not a whore. Perhaps a scullery maid, or even the daughter of a servant.

A single lane turned off the road, and the eagle "pointed" in that direction. He followed, until he was stopped by a wrought-iron gate, cast with odd animals and plants climbing up it.

On the other side was a cobbled yard, a gatehouse, and an imposing mansion four stories high, with turrets and a glassed widow's walk atop it that would give a view of the entire city, save what the royal castle above blocked.

There were lights on inside, and lamps flickering in the wind, stronger at this height.

It was quite a house, something a great lord might own.

Of course Gareth wouldn't disturb the household at this hour. But by the gods, he would not give up, and would return on the morrow and ask the head of the household's servants about Cosyra.

Quite a house indeed, he thought, and turned, when a voice came from the shadows beyond the gate: "It took you long enough."

He jolted, and a slight, cloaked figure came out.

"Cosyra? How did you know I was coming?"

"When I had the charm magicked," she said, "of course I had a small ring linked to it.

"But you didn't answer my accusation, Gareth Radnor. What took you so long?"

"I, uh, was at sea."

"Not all the time," she said.

Gareth decided the only option he had was to tell the truth. There was a silence when he was through, then a tinkling laugh.

"You really thought that I'd be a staggering doxy, or else a married barmaid with a dozen lovers?"

"Something like that."

"Well, I'm not."

She stepped into the lamplight, shed her cloak. Cosyra had been a beautiful girl, now she was a woman. She still wore her dark hair short, she hadn't grown more than an inch or so, and she was still small-figured. But she was very, very lovely, lips soft, inviting, eyes smiling.

Gareth noticed all this a and something as important. Cosyra wore a multicolored blouse that looked like heavy, raw silk, and black pantaloons. At her wrist were bracelets, each reflecting the lamplight in a different color. No servant could ever afford such clothing or baubles.

"As long as you're listing my stupidities," he said, "add in that I've just figured out that you're not a maid or a servant's daughter here."

"No," she agreed. "This house is mine, or rather held in a trust from my mother until I reach adulthood. Would you care to come in for a glass of mulled wine? I assume, you being a sailor now, you're still not a slave to that vile habit of drinking water."

"Actually a yes. I still am."

"I thought you would have learned its evil by now," Cosyra said, as she touched the gate here, there, another place, none of them specially marked, and the gate swung open. "Fish piss in it.

"But come on. I think there's some water about. It rained night before last, and I don't suppose all of it's run off yet."

a a a Gareth told Cosyra of his voyages and asked what she'd been doing.

"Not much," she said. "Being noble, going to horsy events, masked balls and such. Which takes up all your time, even if it uses none of your mind.

"I've not," she said with a sigh, "been pranking or doing anything useful since that night."

Gareth stirred his tea with a cinnamon stick, chanced asking of their friends.

Cosyra made a face.

"Of that great hulk Labala, I know nothing, although I've searched the waterfront for him. As for Fox, he was taken by the watch for theft and had his hand cut off, that being the third time he'd been found out.

"The wound didn't heal quickly, and he decided his life as a thief was over, which meant life itself was done. I found out the inn he was staying at two days after he died. At least I could pay for proper burial ceremonies, although I'm not one of those who believes the gods give a broken nail about their creations."

"Damn," Gareth said sadly, then caught himself for uttering a rare profanity. "I beg your pardon."

"Why?" Cosyra said. "There was worse said when the watch was chasing us. What should have changed now that you see my proper circumstances, which you must know I had nothing in arranging. I am still Cosyra, gods damn it!"

Gareth looked about the huge dining hall once again, at the portraits of stern men in armor holding swords, of women, some young and pretty, some older and imperious, the paintings of land and sea between them, swords, spears, daggers here and there. On the far wall was a great, constantly turning Wheel of Life. Those who could afford it, and the incantations that made it spin, swore it brought the best of luck.

They were the only two in the room. A servant had listened to Cosyra's commands, nodded without speaking, and, in a few minutes, returned with a goblet of wine and Gareth's tea.

"Five years ago," Gareth said, still recovering from the surprise of Cosyra's station, "I would have never thought I'd ever see a manse such as this, although I'd dreamed of it."

Cosyra sipped her wine without lifting her gaze.

"It must be nice to have dreams," she said softly. "Instead of knowing your life is quite planned."

Gareth waited.

"That was why I went out on the streets," she said. "It was a" is a" very clear to me that my fate is graven in stone. I'm to be a perfect maiden, stay a virgin, and one of the noble bees that swarm about me a" or rather, swarm about what my dowry is expected to be a" will take me to wife.

"I'll then have how ever many children he wants, stay close at home, save when we go out for important occasions, while he's allowed to do as he pleases, with mistresses, battles, travel to strange lands a whatever.

"Marriage a marriage a phaf!"

Gareth decided to change the subject.

"You said you and your mother live here."

"Lived. My mother passed on three years ago."

"So there's just you in this monstrous heap of stones?"

"Except for eighty-seven servants of various callings. I have an executor of the estate, a certain elderly lord, who keeps me from harm, especially self-intended. Some of the servants are, of course, his agents, so I can get away with little mischief.