Magic Steps by Tamora Pierce

part of the house when Gran’ther thumped his cane imperiously on the court yard tiles. They turned. Vani was clawing at his mouth, trying to get it open.
    “He really shouldn’t be left that way, my lady,” Zahra in urmured.
    Sandry shrugged, and snapped her fingers. Vani’s mouth flew open. He lunged forward, bent on mischief, only to fall flat on his face. Gran’ther had reached out with the head of his walking stick to trip him. “You will come with me,” he told Vani, getting to his feet. “I have several things to say to you, and to your parents.”
    Sandry curtsied to the old man, then walked into the house with Pasco and his mother. “We need to set a time and place for Pasco’s next lesson, she told Zahra. “I think he’s seen that he really needs to study.”

    Alzena raced up the rickety steps of the inn and pounded at the door to their room. She could hear Nurhar scramble to open it.
    “Be more careful,” Nurhar told her once she was in side. “What if you draw attention,?”
    “Two roughs are trying to cut each other to pieces downstairs,” she snapped, at him. “They wouldn’t notice aught else if the place was on fire. She turned to the mage. “The brother, Qasam Rokat. He’s come out of his Silk Place house. We can take him easily when he returns.” Her grin, bared long, yellow teeth. “He is sweating.”’
    The mage looked up at her. There was an emptiness in his eyes that gave her’ the jitters. “Is there salt for me?”’
    “No,”’ she said cruelly. The dragonsalt they fed. him. kept him dreamy for most of the time. “It’s time: for you to wake up and earn your next dose.”
    “Yes,” he replied. “But a taste will clear my mind.”
    “Work first,” she told him, sharp-voiced. “When we have Qasam Rokat’s head, then you can have salt.”
    He had not blinked. That made her uneasy. “I have to see the place.”
    “We know that,” she snapped.
    “I don’t like it,” mumbled Nurhar as he positioned the carry-frame on the rickety bed. “It’s too public.” He lifted the mage into the frame. There was so little of him—he had no legs and his body was skeleton-thin from his long use of dragonsalt—that Alzena could pick up the mage at need.
    “It has to be public,” Alzena retorted, fastening the buckles that held the mage to the left side of the frame as Nurhar did the right. “The Rokats have to know that nothing will stop us.”
    Once the mage was settled, Alzena and Nurhar dressed in beggars’ rags. They covered their clothes and their curved swords with long, patched cloaks that could be stowed in a carry-sack once they were clear of the inn. There was no sense in allowing the locals to wonder how three beggars could afford to rent rooms—even at a pit like this.
    Once Nurhar had settled his cloak, Alzena helped him to strap the carry-frame on his back. “All ready for a stroll, Grandpa?” she asked the mage.
    I’m ready to die,” he whispered. I’ll be readier still in an hour.”
    “Too bad,” Alzena told him.
    “I need dragonsalt.”
    “Shut up,” Nurhar growled, opening the door.
    “Help us kill the rest of our prey, and you’ll have more dragon salt than you know what to do with,” Alzena hissed in the mage’s ear as she followed him and her hus band out of the room.
    “Sure I will,” the mage whispered. He stared blankly at the filthy ceiling as they descended the stairs.

CHAPTER 6
    The duke stared at the card the footman had brought. His nostrils flared with distaste. “He will not set a proper time?”
    “Your grace, he said it was important.”
    “His brothers murder, doubtless. Show him in.” As the footman left them, the duke told Sandry and Baron Erdogun, “It is Qasam Rokat—Jamar Rokat’s brother. No doubt he feels not enough is being done.” Sandry and the baron rose, but Vedris shook his head. “Please stay. This is a complex affair—perhaps you will see what I do not. I should leave this to the provost and her