The entire house felt still and drowsy, as Lysandra made her way to the kitchen. Even with no light other than the moonlight in the courtyard and through the small high windows, the house was by now familiar ground, and she really didn't need to see.

All the household staff were sensibly in bed. Three of the odd foreigners who had turned their lives upside-down were out prowling again, a trio of small animals vanishing into the night-time streets in search of clues to a trail, or so they said. The fourth was up on the roof; earlier, he'd been oiling and sharpening not only his own curved blade but those of the others, but now he was catnapping on one of the wicker couches. She was certain he'd wake in a heartbeat, like the cat he sometimes was, at any sign of disturbance.

Narcissa, she knew, wasn't asleep. Kaveri said it was because Lirit was so close to full, that Narcissa felt no desire to sleep or eat. She was, instead, on the roof, with no light but Lirit's, working her way through a basket of scrolls she'd been wanting to read for months but had lacked the time for. Treatises on medicine, for the most part, Lysandra thought fondly. Narcissa insisted that her mind felt clearer than it ever had, that she could focus on the text and absorb and remember it better than ever before, with no fatigue and no distractions from her own body.

Which meant Lysandra had the courtyard to herself for exercising and practising and working out new moves and combinations of moves to include in her repertoire, though each dance was spontaneous. That was thirsty work, though, and there'd be cool mint water in the kitchen.

Not all the house was still. Near the kitchen were storerooms, and the sounds coming from one were clearly human and unhappy.

What in the names of the gods...?

Possibly she should let someone else know, but this was her house as much as Narcissa's and what happened here was her concern too. There should be no danger within these walls.

The storeroom doors swung both ways on a simple pivot to make it easier to get in or out while carrying a heavy load, though with a bolt on the outside to keep it closed when not in use. She ran her hand down to the bolt, found it drawn back, and the door moved under her touch, so she pushed it aside.

“Hello?” she said softly. Scant light disturbed the darkness here, only a trickle from the windows, but with her eyes already night-adjusted, she could at least make out the shapes of storage amphorae to step around them. “What's wrong?”

Closer and without the door interfering, those were all the more obviously sobs, which someone was now struggling to choke down. “N-nothing, milady.”

“Clytie? I've never heard of a nothing that leads to crying in a storeroom in the middle of the night.” She tracked the girl's location by sound and touch, and gathered the full skirt of her simplest dance costume so she could slide down the wall to sit next to her. “This must be quite a remarkable nothing.” She found Clytie's hand, slim and roughened by hard work long before Timaios had sent her here to get her out of a job where she was being abused as vulnerable and desperate, and wrapped her own, larger and smoother, around it. “Will you tell me what it is? I'll do my best to help.” She frowned. “Did one of the foreigners do or say something to you?” If they had, then children of the moons or not, rescuers or not, she'd have them out of this house in a heartbeat.

“N-no, not them. Th-they're always polite, milady.”

That was something in their favour, at least. That, and their complete nonchalance about her own dual nature, which seemed to be quite genuine—they’d shown scant reaction when she’d warily changed after work the previous day, after a day to think about it. Apparently Kaveri had told the truth about that, at least.

“Then what's so terrible?” She reached across herself to retrieve the linen scarf tucked into her waistband, one she used to wipe away sweat or tie her hair back when it was interfering, and traded her hand in Clytie's for the scarf so the girl could make use of it.

She waited patiently while Clytie wrestled both with the decision to speak and with the weeping that made it hard to speak.

“I-I almost did a v-very bad thing today.”

“Almost doing is a very different thing from actually doing.”

“Y-you shouldn't trust me, milady. Y-you should throw me out.”

“I think you should tell me what you almost did, and why, and then let Narcissa and I decide what we should do.”

The sobs wound down gradually into broken sniffles.

“Acantha sent me to the m-market today with a list. She wanted to make sure she can make something special for Phaidra and Thaleia when they come home tomorrow. I don't gossip when I'm out, not ever, I really don't.”

The white and green dresses and mantles of the cook, housekeeper, maids, and handmaiden made them easily recognizable when on duty. It would take courage or foolishness for anyone to be anything but respectful to a member of Narcissa's semi-royal, semi-sacred household, and no one in the household was likely to initiate trouble.

“I know you don't. And I know you often run errands.” The whole household knew that Megaira found crowds terrifying, Clytie loved getting out, Oenone was ruthless at bartering for the best, and Zenais adored browsing but had a knack for unusual finds; that generally determined who Acantha and Pherusa sent out.

“Today there was... a woman came up beside me when I stopped at the fountain, and asked who I was, and was it true that you and milady Narcissa are both still alive and not injured. I did tell her that much.”

“We've been telling people that repeatedly for days,” Lysandra said dryly. “It's no secret. And your clothes make who you are obvious.”

“But she kept talking. She knew a lot, and I thought at first she must be a friend of yours or milady Narcissa's, asking about Phaidra and Thaleia and she knew their names and how they were hurt, and I didn't want to be rude to her. I didn't tell her much. Just that the physicians think they're both going to be all right in time. I-I did tell her they'd be out of the hospital tomorrow. I didn't think until afterwards that maybe I shouldn't have.”

“That isn't such a big thing. That would have been a difficult situation for deciding how much to say without possibly offending a friend or telling too much.”

“That isn't the very bad thing I almost did.” Clytie sniffled. “She didn't know very much about the foreigners but she questioned how they stopped an attack by animals that would've been dangerous even if they were natural and they obviously weren't, and whether they should be trusted or might be more than they seem. I didn't let anything slip at all of what milady Narcissa told us, I promise. Not even a hint.”

“That's why Narcissa decided to tell you.” After due contemplation and discussion, Narcissa had made time for a private conversation with each and explained what had happened to her and what it meant, then offered to find them another job elsewhere immediately if they found it difficult to accept; fiercely loyal to their princess, not one took her up on it. Narcissa had been in tears when she’d told Lysandra about it afterwards. “She trusts you. So do I.”

Who knows this much about us? The few friends from the Peacock that Cissa and I talk to fairly freely should be familiar to the staff and besides, would seek us out directly. They wouldn't share anything with others, or expect others to share with them. They understand about privacy. No one else should know much!

“But you shouldn't trust me. This woman... she kept implying that they're dangerous and were part of the attack and that no one sees it... and she said that if I helped her and her friends, it would mean milady Narcissa would be safe.” The tears began again. “She said... Hermia would think I was brave and clever, not just a housemaid.”

Lysandra shoved cold chills into the back of her mind. Worry about where they got so much personal information later. “What did she want you to do?” she asked gently.

“She w-wanted me to open the back door for them, after everyone's asleep. She said she and her friends d-don't trust the foreigners and think they mean bad things for milady Narcissa, and the only way to keep them from hurting her is to get them away from her.”

“Kill them.”

“She didn't say that. I think she meant it. I almost... I thought about it. About Hermia if I saved milady Narcissa, and that maybe she wouldn't go away and leave us...” Her voice broke completely, and she dissolved back into sobbing.

Lysandra slid an arm around her to hug her close; Clytie, too distraught to think about rank, twisted to bury her face in Lysandra's shoulder. “They offered you something you want badly. More than they know they offered, even. Being tempted by that doesn't mean you're bad or that we shouldn't trust you. It just means you're human. Sometimes things that you want conflict, and then you have to think seriously about both sides and try to work out the consequences. The back door is locked still, with no strangers in the house, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“You decided against what she was asking, even though you had reason to hope for good things if you listened to her. That's much more difficult and much more brave than refusing when there's nothing for you to gain if you agree. That isn't less reason for us to trust you, it's more reason.”

While Clytie cried herself out, huddled against her, Lysandra pondered what this meant.

One very public attempt at assassination and discrediting. One less public attempt to get into the house through being disruptive—Hermia had seen the two waiting by the back door and agreed that it had been no accident, though they were all less certain the two attacks were connected. This, though, an approach that would probably have lead to the entire household dead in their beds if it had gone as planned, it felt more like the first one.

Despite an alarming degree of information about the private workings of the household, their enemies didn't know everything. With only Madoc of the quartet here, and Narcissa up all night, it wouldn't have gone as planned.

Clytie made a sound that might have been an inelegant snort of disgust instead of more sniffling. “She didn't mention you at all, milady. By either name or a title or anything. Just right at the start, the princess and her cousin, and after that just milady Narcissa.”

“People forgetting me isn't that unusual. When they remember me, it's normally because they want something from me or because they disapprove of me. Feel better?”

“Y-yes, but I almost...”

“Almost, but didn't,” Lysandra said firmly. “Do you know what we need to do now?”

“N-no.”

“We need to wake Hermia up and we need to go tell her and Narcissa and Madoc about this.”

“But... milady...”

“If there are still people out there who are seeking to do harm to this household, then they need to know about this. Why don't you get yourself cleaned up a bit, while I get Hermia, and then we'll go up on the roof?”

Clytie sighed. “Yes, milady.”

“It's going to be all right. You haven't done anything bad. And it's important information. Up you get.”

Clytie scrambled gracelessly to her feet. Lysandra sighed to herself. Clytie had been without female relatives since she was very young, Megaira had lost hers not long before coming to them, Oenone’s family had never known she needed or wanted to learn, and Zenais had lost any motivation for several difficult years, so Lysandra had personally taken over teaching them to dance. Clytie... well, it was just as well that she was unlikely to want to marry. Apparently she did better with the lessons the four guards gave her, though, so it was probably best to just consider it another example of people being different.

Lysandra rose more smoothly, and left Clytie to find water to wash her face and to have time to compose herself.

Hermia came to her door immediately when Lysandra tapped on it and called her name, though she was naked and tousle-haired so presumably had been asleep.

“Something happened today,” Lysandra said. “You and Narcissa and Madoc all need to know and I don't think it should wait until breakfast. I'm sorry to wake you.”

“It's all right, I'll live. Part of the job.” Hermia stepped back into her room to catch up her tunic and pull it on.

“We need to wait for Clytie.”

“Clytie? Is she...?” Hermia buckled into place the belt that supported her long knife.

“She's not hurt, just very upset. Someone who knows too much approached her today with an extremely enticing offer.”

“She wouldn't betray us.”

“Agreed. But she feels bad about being tempted.”

Hermia sighed, tying her hair back with a leather thong into a rather messy tail. “That girl. She expects too much of herself.”

“Also agreed.”

Clytie joined them, much subdued. Before anyone could get into any further discussion, Lysandra shooed them both up two flights of stairs to the roof.

“Madoc, wake up,” she said. “Cissa, we need you too.”

Narcissa hastily abandoned her current scroll and strode over to them. “What's wrong?” In another part of the roof, Madoc stretched and yawned hugely, and got up from the couch he'd been napping on under Sanur’s waning crescent.

“Something happened today,” Lysandra repeated. She drew Clytie down beside her on one of the couches, but kept ahold of her hand; the others quickly dropped onto seats around them. “Tell them about the woman you met today.”

Uncertainly, eyes low, Clytie repeated her story. She stumbled badly over the bit about how Hermia would see her.

“I already think you're brave and clever,” Hermia chided, though she sounded more exasperated than angry. “I wouldn't waste the time on teaching you otherwise.”

Lysandra caught Hermia's eye and shook her head; Hermia sighed but let it go at that, so Clytie could finish.

“This woman,” Madoc said. “Was she Enodian?”

“I don't know,” Clytie said doubtfully. “She speaks Enodian perfectly with no accent, not a foreign one I mean, she sounded like she's from around the capital and not from the south. But her skin was really dark, like the people from the western islands. Even darker than Iole's.”

“Second- and third-generation immigrants from the islands aren't uncommon,” Narcissa said to Madoc. “They have full Enodian citizenship. The western islands have been our close allies for generations.”

“Or,” Madoc said, “she's older than she looks and has been in Enodia long enough to sound like a native. I'm not saying that's the most likely, but it is a possibility. Did she say anything about blood or healing fast?”

Clytie nodded. “She wanted to know if I knew anything about the wolf with yellow blood that disappeared after the fight, and whether I was sure it was protecting milady Narcissa. I thought that was a stupid question, since it stopped a bear from reaching her and milady Lysandra. And she said she'd heard that one foreigner had been killed and one got hurt, but she'd been asking around and found out about four foreigners who matched the same description, with a big dog of some wolfish breed, renting rooms in the city for a few days before, and did I know why there are still four only with no dog and no injuries.”

Madoc muttered something unfamiliar, but it didn't sound pleasant. “These aren't good questions. Covering our tracks after something that public is bad enough, without trying to hide not only from some very unfriendly people who are like us in at least the most basic sense, but also from a lot of mostly friendly or neutral people who can see things others can't but we can’t explain everything to all of them. Kieran lost someone important once, because someone saw her change and the whole community came after them.”

“Enodia is accustomed to the gods taking a direct role in matters,” Narcissa said. “It doesn't occur every day, only in large matters, but it does occur. Most often, a statue moves to turn away from or towards something, in a different pose and with many witnesses, or the animal associated with a god does something genuinely extraordinary and improbable, or something of the sort that sends an unmistakable message, but it is common knowledge that the gods have other methods and messengers. The presence of spirit creatures of any sort is less likely to cause fear or horror than it is to cause intense and widespread debate over which god and what they want and to what degree that conflicts with what other gods clearly or possibly want.”

“I suppose that's better.” Madoc didn't sound entirely certain of that. “At least we know for sure that they haven't given up, and there are at least two other than the archer even if the archer is one of her 'friends'. Tyrel's better at plans than I am, and Kieran will be back soon, so I don't think we should do anything hasty, but it's good reason to stay alert.”

“We should warn the rest of the staff,” Hermia said. “Make sure they know that someone may try to use them to get inside the house or get information. And that they lie.”

“I rather doubt,” Lysandra said, “that once inside, they'd restrain themselves in who they attack. And I'm certain Cissa and I would be the real primary targets.”

Madoc nodded. “I think you're right.”

“Clytie,” Narcissa said gravely. “Thank you for trusting my judgement and having the good sense to stay out of a honey-baited trap and the courage and honesty to tell us what happened. If you would rather stay out of the market for a few days, I'm sure that can be arranged.”

“I'll go with you myself if you go out,” Hermia said. “Let anyone try against both of us, hm?”

Lysandra kept her smile to herself as Clytie finally raised her eyes to Hermia's. “You don't... you don't think I did something bad?” the girl said tentatively.

“Gods, no. I agree absolutely with Their Serenities.” The guard looked at Lysandra, then Narcissa. “If there's nothing else for tonight, suppose I take Clytie back down to bed?”

Madoc nodded. “I don't think there's anything we can actively do, other than warning the rest in the morning.”

“Go ahead,” Narcissa said to Hermia and Clytie.

Lysandra let go of Clytie's hand after a last squeeze. “Get some sleep. We'll tell Pherusa and Acantha that you can sleep as long as you need to. You can have the day off from work—but try to do your lessons.”

“I need to help,” Clytie protested, though she let Hermia usher her off towards the stairs.

“The house will function without you for one day,” Narcissa said firmly.

“That,” Madoc sighed, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, once the pair were gone, “was the kind of attack that we should've been expecting, given the little we know about them. I wonder how much they've been using tactics like that to get other things they want.”

“I wonder,” Narcissa said icily, “how much suffering and hardship they've inflicted on our people that way. I want them out of Enodia the way I would want poison out of the body of a patient.”

“Kieran's back tomorrow night, thank the moonladies, and maybe we can come up with a plan then. Unfortunately, sometimes you have to wait for prey to break cover before you pounce.”

“Well, I'm going to get the drink I was after,” Lysandra said, rising. “And I believe I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams,” Narcissa said.

Lysandra bit down on her first reply, wishing her the same, and settled for, “I hope so.”