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mishap that might leave little Sylvain orphaned.
    Derkh, announcing, “You aren’t going over there without me,” was met by a brilliant flash of teeth.
    “You know to make weapons?” asked Yolenka.
    “Of course.”
    “Is perfect. You sell weapons and jewelwork—get rich from Turga himself!”
    Dominic looked up quizzically. That was a bit much, asking a blacksmith to masquerade as a jewelry craftsman. How would they maintain that charade?
    Yolenka caught his look. “What?” Her gaze bored into him, sharp as a bird of prey.
    “Yolenka.” Derkh laid a hand on her arm, smoothing ruffled feathers. “Dominic doesn’t know I make jewelry, that’s all. I haven’t really told anyone.”
    Now the sharp gaze swiveled over to Derkh, the eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You hide this in cellar, why? Is gift you have!” She fingered her necklace, lifting the bronze and gold centerplate so it caught the light. “He make this. I sell twenty of these in one day in Tarzine market, easy. Lucky I tell him bring his pieces to sell in Blanchette.”
    They had no time to wonder at this revelation. Gabrielle asked to go in case the children were hurt and was welcomed into the little band as a seller of remedies and stitcher of wounds.
    “Charms, too, is very good,” suggested Yolenka.
    Féolan was accepted as a musician, though he would have to work with Yolenka on ship to learn a suitable accompaniment to her dance style.
    The problem of Dominic’s disguise stumped them. He was soon to be king of Verdeau and had never before felt inadequate to any task, but now he seemed the only one in the room who could not boast of some special talent.
    “Is no matter,” assured Yolenka. “We think on ship.”
    She surveyed their little band. “Five. Is good number, not too big. Is anyone else must come?” she asked Dominic.
    He considered, shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    “We add just one more then,” she announced. “Fighter. Bodyguard. Women go into badlands, they need strong protection—especially whore dancers. And we need good fighter, maybe, to help steal back children.”
    Derkh’s pale face flushed. “You have us—that’s what we are going for, to fight!”
    Yolenka’s look, fond but dismissive, did nothing to bring down his color. “You are strong and brave, yes. But we need fighter with training, man who can meet Turga’s best.”
    It was Tristan who spoke up. “Yolenka, if you think we need more men, I can assign as many as you like. But if you are looking for better fighters, you won’t find them—not in Verdeau. Derkh was personally trained by the commander of his country’s military, and Féolan is faster with blade and bow than anyone I ever saw. Each of these men has saved my life. Together with my brother, there is no one I would trust more in a battle.”
    Yolenka swept her eyes over them, reappraising, lingering over Derkh. At last she nodded.
    “Then, no. Smaller is better, I think. Unless you want more?” She turned to Dominic, acknowledging, if grudgingly, that this was really his venture.
    He shook his head slowly. “No, not knowing the country, I will trust to your judgment. And you are right: a smaller group can travel with less notice.
    “Which brings me to the next problem. How on earth will we know where he has taken them?”
    “I know where he takes them.” Yolenka’s voice was flat, her face grim and still. The amber eyes when they met Dominic’s had lost their fierce pride. He read pity there, and old pain, and felt a bolt of fear for his babies.
    “He takes them to Baskir,” Yolenka announced. “To slave auction.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    W HEN ALL ARE HOME SAFE, we will celebrate something better than an old woman’s birthday.”
When
, not
if
. The quiet courage and optimism of the word was exactly what Dominic had learned to expect from his mother. Solange would never admit the specter of failure, not while she had the least scrap of hope. Certainly not at this