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asked Shirlee, surprised at the reaction.

      Camille was already on her feet and excited to begin. “Come with me outside the city and show me how you work together.”

      They moved the meeting to some vacant space in the lower valley where Camille asked them to mount an attack against a stone sitting at the edge of the river. She watched as each coven took turns in organising themselves and when all had tried, without success, she spoke with them again. She began with Shirlee’s coven. “Why did I put a Yellow in charge?” she asked.

      A number of women replied all expressing the opinion that the Yellows had no ability that could be used in attack so they were asked to command. Camille paced the rocky shore before turning on the women. “No, there is where you go wrong. The Yellows possess the most important of the skills required for your success.” This surprised all the witches but Camille challenged them again. “Shirlee, why do you stand and call to your group? Why not use your ability?” Everyone appeared confused and Camille changed her approach. “When you look to heal, what do you do?”

      “I try to see inside the person, and find the injury so I can decide how it needs to be healed,” the Yellow replied as if stating the obvious.

      “It is no different. Look inside and guide them. You must open yourself up to them to do this but only then they will understand your desires and your commands can be followed. Let me show you. Search inside each of your coven and think how you wish them to act but have your target in mind at all times or you will distract them. Now begin and I will follow.”

      Camille watched and helped as Shirlee gradually took control. Then at her command Vanessa moved the water to eddy beneath the edge of the rock, an effort that continued for some minutes. Then to Katryn she asked for a shift of air and the rock rolled gently into the swirling water of the river. It was a simple task but the women were jubilant at their success and after the other covens had their own minor breakthroughs Camille left them to their training. She walked back into the city to seek out Aiyu and continue their conversation.

      Chapter 7

      Clarise walked down the street as she had done each day since her arrival in Hoate. Her outfit had been carefully selected to fit into her role, while at the same time making her stand out among all others. The long black skirt, while suitable, was made to show flashes of ankle as she walked and her blouse was sedately cut in bright yellow. She would introduce these people to colour, she thought. Her hair was tied back with yellow ribbon and yellow gems adorned her ear rings. Her eyes watched all about her but today she had somewhere to be and so she did not dally.

      The line of timber buildings with their drab windows and smoking chimneys would be depressing if she took the time to notice them. Stopping in front of another plain building, two stories high and very wide, she could not understand why a place that controlled the wealth of a nation could not have colour other than the traders refused to spend a coin unless they could expect a profit. The only decoration on the building was the faded white symbol above the plain door—the symbol of The Honourable Guild of Mercers and Traders.

      Her research had provided her with the information that the simple three interlinked circles, two on top and one below, represented the coins of business. The top two indicated local trade and that with other kingdoms while the bottom one indicated secret trades, deals completed without the knowledge of the money-changer, though this knowledge was supposedly only known only to high members of the guild, and now her. She stepped through the door and into the secret chambers of finance for the first time.

      The source of her information, a trader by the name of Skamon, sat hunched over his desk in a small cubicle to her left. A runner came and went as she watched and the scrap of paper he delivered was carefully scrutinised by the light of a single flickering candle that had burned down almost to the plate that held it.

      Skamon’s long black hair, shot with grey, hung from beneath a broad black hat, hiding his age-wrinkled face. He was never without his hat, even while at home, he had told her. Other than his ink-stained hands, the rest of the man was hidden by a dirty grey coat. As she watched the candle gave one last hopeful flicker before the light left it forever. Skamon’s head came up and his eyes shifted inside their sockets as he tried to decide if he could see or if the expense of a new candle was necessary. With obvious resignation he signalled a runner to fetch a replacement and the movement helped him see her standing watching him. She allowed a smile to light her face and saw the moment of pleasure in his eyes before he returned to his figures. It had been easy to learn what she needed for this lonely old creature though he was not really old she reminded herself. He was only on the high side of his forties even if he appeared twenty years older.

      Looking about the room she saw that both side walls were lined with similar cubicles, though most had more than one candle. Skamon had told her that the two doors in the back wall led to private offices for those who could afford them or were willing to spend coin on their hire. They were used to store records, hold private meetings, or simply to sleep after a long day. Occasionally they were used for other distractions but Skamon had told her he would not waste money that way. In the centre of the room, protected by a low fence, the money-changer sat at his large desk. Behind him, a low wall of cubby-holes held records of the day’s transactions. These would be collated and debts settled at the close of business.

      Clarise approached the man. From the pocket hidden inside her belt she produced the note and passed it to the money-changer who stamped it, took a tag from a drawer and wrote her name on it, then turned and placed it on a spare cubby-hole behind him. With that complete, he wrote her name at the top of a column in his massive book and placed the note in the cubby-hole to be filed later. “Up there,” he said, indicating the stairs at the back of the room. His words were as carefully protected as his movements.

      Above the offices she entered a vast space filled with noise. This was the upper. The place smelled of fear and doubt, things she knew about and could exploit. The mass of men and women flowed around mismatched chairs and tables like ants at a picnic, all the while calling out offers for deals, mostly small. This area was for minor dealers, people who liked to dabble but lacked the wealth or courage to buy their way onto the floor, as the lower level was named. This was where she must begin. No matter how much coin the money-changer held in her name she must first serve in the upper, at least until she proved she could, and would, deal in the size of transactions to gain attention. But she would not be here long.

      Her advantage lay in something Skamon had said one night. The large fleet of Ortalian vessels lay at rest in the harbour but as yet none had offered any goods for trade. There were rumours that they escorted a royal personage here to visit the queen. They had not moved in weeks and no announcement had come from the palace. The dealers were becoming concerned. Clarise had a short time to exploit her knowledge that there would be no trade with Ortalia for years to come. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the world of commerce. “Buying Poh fish,” she called loudly as she moved.

      Found only among the reefs at the western tip of Ortalia where it was caught and salted, the Poh fish provided almost no nutritional value. No longer than an inch with a brown stripe running down its yellow body it was the most expensive commodity in Frith, which amused Clarise. In any other kingdom it held no value at all. It was odd that the dealers had inadvertently created this market within their own borders making Frith the wealthiest of all kingdoms but in doing so created a small, idle society within the main population who had more money than they could possibly spend. Seeking new experiences this group had discovered Poh fish. When eaten the toxins found in its flesh produced a feeling of euphoria and drew pictures on a person’s mind. Demand soon outgrew supply and the rising price for a single fish made it inaccessible to all but the very rich.

      It did not take long before the first trader appeared in front of her. “How much?” the young man stammered.

      “How much do I want, or how much will I pay?” she asked sweetly. It was clear to her that he too was new to the dealers. He was probably the son of a wealthy man who had been given a stake to come and prove himself and although she had no history as a trader Clarise had the training of a spy and the experience of the world to guide her.

      “How much do

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