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"I was twelve," Vambran began, "and it was the Night of Ghosts festival at the Generon. Adyan, Horial, and I were bored, so we decided to go take some target practice with a brand new crossbow Uncle Kovrim had given to me. We found a spot where we didn't think we'd bother anyone, but it was a stupid, stupid thing we did, because I shot someone."

He stopped there, taking several deep breaths and swallowing. Emriana squeezed her brother's hand reassuringly and nodded, urging him to continue.

"It was Lord Wianar's cousin Rodolpho. It was an accident, but everyone knew that Eles Wianar would bend it to his advantage any way he could. So Aunt Xaphira fixed it. She dressed up like an assassin, hid her face, and managed to get over the walls and out of the city with half the guardsmen in Arrabar chasing her. No one ever figured out the truth."

"Oh, Vambran, I'm sorry," Emriana said, her voice thick. "That must have been horrible for you! And Uncle Dregaul has held it against you ever since," she said, realizing then the origin of the animosity between Vambran and his uncle. "He blames you."

That thought made Emriana feel sick to her stomach. She realized for the first time that she truly hated her uncle.

"He has a right to. Every day since it happened, I've wondered how it must have felt for Rodolpho's family to wonder why someone would want to kill him. I've imagined the pain and hurt that not knowing the truth has caused them." Vambran blinked then and looked at his sister with determination. "I won't be a party to another covered-up killing. That's why I have to do this. I would hope that you would do it just because it's the right thing to do, but if you don't want to…"

He shrugged and began to pace once more. It was Emriana's turn to feel hurt.

"I never meant that," she said. "I want to do what's right, too, especially now that I know. I just want to make sure we're doing it for the right reasons, and in the right way. Uncle Dregaul isn't going to like us defying him, especially because of… because of what happened."

"I don't care what Uncle Dregaul thinks. I'm through cowering at his feet for my past crimes. I'm making amends, and this is my redemption."

"As long as you realize that he could be right. If by continuing to dig around, we hurt the family business, are we doing more damage than good?"

"Are you saying that preserving the 'business as usual' attitude of Uncle Dregaul is more important than bringing murderers to justice?"

Emriana stared steadily at Vambran.

"No," she said quietly. "I am saying that we should be subtle, in case we're completely wrong, so that we don't unduly hurt House Matrell. Grandmother Hetta is a proud woman, and she deserves that much from us."

Vambran stood quietly, considering for a moment, then he nodded and said, "That's reasonable and fair. All right, I'll make you a bargain."

"Name it," Emriana said, smiling again.

"I'll keep a low profile while I sniff out what's going on, if you'll promise to be careful and not take any unnecessary risks."

"Deal."

"Good. Now, I have something for you."

"You do?" Emriana said, getting excited.

"Yes. This was supposed to be your birthday present, and I guess it still is, but you're getting it a day early, after all."

Emriana couldn't help but smile in glee as Vambran reached into one of his traveling trunks, which had been brought to the estate from Lady's Favor by wagon earlier in the day, and pulled out a small pouch made of fine satin. He handed the thing to his sister.

"What is it?" the girl asked breathlessly, pulling open the drawstrings and dumping the item inside into the palm of her hand.

It was a pendant, she saw, a large opal, mostly gray with swirls of mauve, orange, and green, in a teardrop shape. The narrow end had a fine gold chain threaded through it. It took Emriana's breath away.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she breathed, holding it up to let it shine in the light. She lunged at her brother and wrapped him in a big hug. "Thank you so much!" she gushed.

"Hang on," Vambran laughed, freeing himself from her. "Remember the message I sent you?" he asked. When Emriana nodded, perplexed, he pointed to the pendant. "I did it with that."

The girl's eyes widened even more.

"Oh, show me!" she pleaded, handing the gemstone to her brother.

Vambran took the pendant and held it up.

"Once per day, when you are holding it in your hand, you concentrate on the person you want to send the message to, and speak the message."

"Oh, I want to try it, right now!"

"No, wait a minute. Listen to me. I said once per day. If you try it any more often than that, it won't work. You have to hold it and concentrate on the idea of speaking a message to them. If you do that, it will work, no matter how far away from you that person is."

Emriana just smiled and slipped the chain around her neck.

"It's wonderful," she said, feeling her eyes welling up with tears of happiness. "Thank you, Vambran."

"The person on the other end of the message can talk back to you, if they want. But remember to keep the message short. You can't ramble on and on, because only the first handful of words will go through."

Emriana nodded and said, "I'll remember."

"If you ever get in a bind and need my help, use it to get my attention. I'll get to you as quickly as I can."

"All right," the girl replied, smiling and wiping her eyes with her hands. She considered it the best birthday present she had ever received.

Finally, after Emriana had regained her composure, she returned to the topic at hand.

"So, what's our next step?" she asked, feeling conspiratorial.

"Nothing, for the moment," Vambran replied. "I need to spend some time with the company. There's payroll to be distributed, plus I promised Adyan and Horial I would meet them tonight for drinks."

"Oh, you're no fun," Emriana said, pouting. "I was hoping for some real spying tonight."

"Not a chance," Vambran replied. "If nothing else, you're still under Uncle Dregaul's eagle eye at the moment. So you're not going anywhere." When she started to protest, Vambran wagged a finger at his sister. "Ah, ah, ah! You just got through saying we needed to keep a low profile. That goes for you, too."

"Fine," Emriana harrumphed. "You take all the fun out of this."

"I'm sure that there will be plenty of chances for you to play spy tomorrow," her brother said. "Your birthday party that Hetta is throwing for you is tomorrow night."

Emriana smacked herself in the forehead and groaned, "Oh, Waukeen, that's right. I completely forgot. And I'm supposed to be escorted by Denrick!"

The girl made a disparaging sound in her throat and rolled her eyes in misery. The thought of spending any more time with that self-inflated buffoon, especially once she knew his true character, was repulsive.

"You have to act like nothing is wrong," Vambran warned. "You can't give him or anyone in his family a reason to be suspicious."

"I know," Emriana sighed, "but I don't have to like it."

* * *

The Crying Claw got its name from the sound of its sign-depicting a single bird's claw-squeaking as it swung in the wind that blew in off the bay to the west. The front doors of the place actually faced northeast, away from the harbor, and it maintained a sizable taproom just inside the entrance. That was only a small portion of the whole, though, for the bulk of the property rested on the side of a rather steep hill that sloped its way down toward the docks. It was there, off the back of the establishment, where the majority of the patrons gathered whenever the weather permitted. The entire hillside had been terraced, carved into wide, tiled patios connected by sets of ramps and stairs and filled with tables, most of them open to the sky but a few protected by wooden scaffolding draped with brightly colored awnings. Of course, there were the prerequisite planter boxes, trellises, and wooden railings generously placed to divide the space up, all overgrown with the tropical plants and vines that were so common in the Reach. The architecture created the effect of a hillside vineyard in the middle of the city.