"The Criu are sending in a few traders." Alaiya studied the First Matron through the holographic screen. Her face was angular, sleek, shaped inflexibly by years of methodical leadership. Her hair was pinned up by a thicket of jade pins and onyx needles. "When did the Criu start trading?" asked Alaiya. She was in her private chambers; an airy room in the peaks. A ray of light speared in from one small window. "The Criu have always been trading," the First said drily. "Their trading methods haven't always been the most conventional," Alaiya replied edgily. "It's still trading, Second," the First reaffirmed. Her eyes hardened into flint. Alaiya bowed. "I understand." "The Criu will enter your fort in a week. They have nineteen members, all merchants. They will be trading cosmetics and accessories. Their tradesmaster has agreed to report to you on the day of arrival and onwards." "Understood." "I trust your warriors will keep themselves in check." It wasn't a question. "I will personally oversee them," Alaiya confirmed. "You shouldn't need to. They should know their roles." "They will," Alaiya assured. The First's servant guard slithered in the screen's background. The mgalekgolo was an orange hulk of wriggling roots. It swelled inside its armour plating. "I have sanctioned their stay and their allowances. The Criu will know what to do, and all details will be made clear to you as soon as they arrive," the First said. Alaiya asked, "Why are they trading in my -" "They are trading in your fort because mine has enough mingling families," she cut. "In the chance you do become First, I expect you to know what to do. The Third is incompetent, and I am planning her replacement. I do not trust her with the trials of the First, and she has had her time." She might as well as have ordered the Third killed. Matronage was a lifelong position. You remained until death. "Of course." The First steepled her hands. "The Criu are not the most respected of families, we know. They have their uses, but Roliem can do without the attention of catering to them, however pedestrian trading may seem. Word can go around, but I do not want Roliem to be the heart of gossip. Vadam can take that spot." "That could be an affront to the Criu," Alaiya cautioned. "That is foreseeable, but not a major concern. It is not a directed insult in the first place, so if the Criu matrons do take offense it will pass off as a genuine oversight," the First said, "I don't want utter secrecy, just a hushed voice. Crui's matrons have taken their share of disrespect, and they do not mind, not fully." Alaiya knew the Criu matrons. Dark, eccentric, perpetually shrouded the clandestine robe of deceit. The Criu were a lineage of assassins for hire. They had garnered the reputation of turncoats; what they did, and who their allegiances stood with, depended on which side offered more of the life-sustaining fuel; money. Few families would stoop down to barter with the Criu, but they will seldom short of offers; the assassins' contract is one even they will not break. There was one thing, one sacrifice required for an assassination to be carried out. When the contract is sanctioned, the employing family must officially sign the contract, with an original sigil. The Criu themselves would forever remain neutral. "Have they begun their trade routes anywhere else?" Alaiya asked. The First shook her head. Her mandibles were exquisitely formed, Alaiya realised with a pang of suppressed jealousy. The First had the visage of sculpted perfection, and the only mar were the tolls of leadership, hardening the soft clay into an aging ceramic. "We are one of the Criu's associates that extend past business," she said. "Movam is the only other. Aside from assassinations, no other family would deign to go near them." "Of course," "How was the trip with the humans?" Alaiya shrugged. "One of them brought a weapon aboard Preeminent." The First's eyes glinted. "And how did you solve that?" "[i]Appropriately,[/i]" Alaiya said. Her mandibles creased into a smile. "Very well. But Secundus, the cycle is nearing when the decision must be made. See to it that you have made your choice, for it could tip the final result." "I understand." "Good. The Criu should be at your walls within the week. I want Fort Secundus back to normal by tomorrow." "As you say, First Matron," concluded Alaiya. She bowed again to the matron, and then the holographic screen winked out. The projector protruding from the raw granite walls faded into deactivation. Huraii had left a goblet of chilled tea on the tables, along with a fresh change of clothing. Alaiya unbuttoned her hanfu. "So I was right." Qaetha swaggered into the chamber. Alaiya scowled. "So I was right," he repeated, sitting down onto the bed. He watched her undress. "The Criu are coming." "To trade," Alaiya clarified. "And that is all." "I was right about that too. But are you sure?" "There is nothing wrong with the Criu, whatever you might think." She sipped from the goblet, naked, and then began to pull on the new robe. "There is aplenty wrong with the Criu, Alaiya," he said. "Respect might be given, but it will be as false as oil on water. Our men will not leave them alone, you know." "These are merchants, Qaetha. Not assassins." She clasped the robe together, and then headed for the doorway. "Your men better not touch the Criu. This is the last time I will say it." Qaetha jumped to his feet, following hotly. "The Criu -" She slammed the door again.