The shrill woman with the robe and the laquered fingernails smoothed out a sheet of crumpled paper, fussily.  Kara waited, impatient, while the woman meticulously unwrapped each fragile object and inspected it, as well as each crushed bit of paper Kara had used for wrapping.  She made distressed little noises over a smeary wet wad that had met an accident with a puddle on the long slog here.   Kara waved smelly incense smoke away from her nose and sighed.   

“Well, it all does seem to be here,” the woman said thinly.  “Rather more, even, than we were expecting of you, I must say.  You have earned our trust.”

“Yes, well, I’m talented.”  Kara made a face.

“Mmm.”  The woman eased apart two wet sheets and blinked at them.  “Well.”  She set them aside and templed her fingers, regarding Kara sternly from under her purple hood.  “This next task will be much more complicated and vital.  You will need all your wits and talents to accomplish it and you will, of course, be rewarded even more richly.”

Kara thumbed through the roll of paper Germhacht money she had just earned, and frowned suspiciously.  “How difficult, and how much more richly?”

“Lord Marlton Chauncellor of Arien is here, at his summer estate outside of town.  He has lately returned from Narmos, and is rumored to have brought back a few small items.  Bring these to me, and you will be greatly rewarded.”  The woman opened a purse full of gold.  At Kara’s glance, she sighed.  “In silver, or paper, or sandwiches, or whatever annoying little boys want.”

Kara grinned abruptly.  “Deal.”

“You will have to get into the manor house,” the woman said.  “It is guarded, and there are dogs.  We don’t know where in the house these artifacts might be.”

“Small objects from Narmos?”  Kara paused, wondering how far to push this for a higher offer.  The woman made a distressed face over another sodden lump of papers, and Kara decided not to press her luck.  “I think I can handle it.”  The artifacts were, after all, behind the brick where she had left them, and she couldn’t really fence them for more than she was being offered by this gullible sod, anyway.

“It is terribly important to us that you do,” the woman said fervently.  “For the good of all spirits.”

            “It could be tough,” Kara said.  “But I’ll do it.  The spirits just better pay that carriage fare up front.”

            Kara left with a down payment in her deep pockets, and a feeling of wicked exhilaration.  Finally, her luck was changing.

Anna adjusted a new hat on her curls, piled high today in a style favored by Lady Blackfeather, and smiled at her painting mirror.  Through a funny, stilted little conversation via visiting cards, she and the very correct Lord Varden Chauncellor had agreed to meet at the front of the Berdrach manor gates later in the afternoon.  Anna had pinned up the collection of cards with their stiffly polite little queries on a corkboard.  She stopped adjusting her hat ribbons at the sound of the bell.  Visitors already?  Surely it wasn’t another addendum to the note collection.  He wouldn’t dare cancel.  Not when she’d finally got both her hair and her hopes up.  She swept into the hallway and paused, unsure whether or not it was proper for young ladies to charge up and fling doors open breathlessly.  Djaren shot past from his room, and threw the door open breathlessly.  “Is it Ka—”  He cut off abruptly, finding himself face to face with Mister Pumphrey and the ever-present spiritualists in a bunch on the doorstop. 

“Hello, young Master Blackfeather,” the shrill woman cooed. “Has your dear father found an opportunity to read Mister Pumphrey’s book?” 

Djaren made a small noise in his throat and tried to shut the door again, but some sparkling personage had their umbrella blocking it.  Djaren threw a distressed glance over his shoulder at Anna, who ducked back out of sight.  Tam looked out from the boys’ room, across the hall, and started, letting out a colorful bit of invective in Shandorian mountain speech.  Anna tried unsuccessfully to smother a giggle.  Tam must have heard it, because he looked at her and his face turned red. 

“Is that your Mother?” the shrill woman asked Djaren. “I simply must speak to her.” 

“Is your father well enough to take visitors?” Pumphrey asked.

“He’s, ah . . .”  Djaren looked from face to face, clearly horrified.

“Hiding,” a snide voice with an Arienish accent spoke from behind the group.  “Out of my way, I have important business with Blackfeather that I don’t believe he’ll want discussed in public.” 

Djaren jumped.  “Mother!” he called.  “Pumphrites!  And Marlton Chauncellor.” Anna had heard him yell, “Avalanche!  Run!” in the same tone.  What was Varden’s father doing here?

Lady Blackfeather appeared from the parlor, her eyes wide.  She bit back an unconscious repetition of Tam’s outburst.  “Oh, dear.  No, I’m sorry, this is a very bad time.  The Doctor is not—”

Marlton Chauncellor succeeded at last in elbowing the weakly protesting spiritualists out of the way with the aid of his decorative cane, and entered the room with purpose.  “Doctor Blackfeather will face me at once to answer for the theft of my property!  Here lad, why don’t you take me to him.”  He reached a hand for Djaren’s shoulder.

Lady Blackfeather grabbed Djaren’s arm and pushed him around behind her, out of Lord Chauncellor’s reach.  Tam rushed out to back her up, and Uncle Eabrey emerged from the rear study, looking concerned.

“I will ask you to remove yourself from my sitting room immediately,” Lady Blackfeather said to Marlton Chauncellor.  Tam stood tall behind her, and Djaren attempted to as well, but was blocked by his mother’s back.

“Don’t pretend outraged innocence at me,” the elder Chauncellor said coldly.  “I am nobody’s fool.  I shall soon be able to prove that you and your family were behind the theft of my antiquities.  You’ll be expelled from the Society, and from every other academic institution on the continent.  I can see to that.”

“You quite forget yourself, Lord Chauncellor,” Lady Blackfeather said.  “My family has had nothing to do with any of your dealings, or misfortunes.”

“Hah!”  said Chauncellor.  “I saw him.  I saw your boy talking to the little foreign thief.  That strongly implies that you’re in league with criminals.  Where is the ever mysterious Doctor Blackfeather?  Is he hiding from me, or is he gone, fraternizing with the same vandals who robbed the Society library last night?  What other disappearances of valuables has he had a hand in?  I know he wanted the seal of Kesh for himself, but to think he would stoop to this kind of petty rivalty, really.  I have no choice but to make a report to the Society about this.”

The group of Pumphrites twittered in alarm and exchanged shocked whispers. 

A worried whimper from across the hall drew Anna’s attention.  Jon stood in the doorway of the boys’ room looking at his open palm, which was glowing with a strong silver light.  He stared from it to her, and tried to smother the light in his shirt tails.

Tam turned, looking alarmed.  Jon sprang back into the boys’ room.

“Out, at once,” Lady Blackfeather ordered.  “If you will bring slanders, bring them with some semblance of evidence.  Baseless theorizing is a weakness that is neither charming in your writings or your person.  Good day.  All of you.”

Marlton Chauncellor resisted his expulsion more strongly than the flustered Pumphrites.  “I will not be bullied, madam.”

“Fine.  Neither will I.  Out.”

“You haven’t heard the last of this.”

“I’m sure.”

Lady Blackfeather shut the door on him, and he withdrew to save both his dignity and his foot from being smashed.