Ralan lifted his head and almost threw up his ale. He set it back down on the seat and kept his eyes closed.

"I didn't expect you to wake so soon, Ralan. Although I must say the knight showed admirable restraint. I would have tossed a few more punches. There's nothing like a split lip to teach you respect as you try to eat."

Ralan didn't move and kept his eyes closed. He wasn't missing any teeth, and he didn't think he had any broken bones. Just a pounding headache. "You know, this is an overreaction even for you, Deputy Karch. I was just practicing for Founders Day."

One of the oldest traditions of Founders Day was for the Guildmaster Thief to take part in the parade, riding in a cage on a cart at the rear. As the symbolic representative of all that was selfish and evil in Ness, the tradition demanded that the populace hurl garbage at him. Tomatoes were a popular projectile.

Karch's voice pierced the clatter of hooves and the sound of wheels rolling over cobblestone. "The guilds prepare all year for their Founders Day celebrations," he paused, "and you prepare to throw tomatoes at the Guildmaster Thief."

"It's part of the tradition." Ralan had to fight back his desire to be more disrespectful. Something was different, and he needed to take much more care in how he interacted with his father's deputy. Ralan opened his eyes. Thankfully, the carriage was enclosed and the light was dim. Karch sat across from him with his legs crossed. His hands were in his lap.

"Yes," Karch sneered, "for children." Before Ralan could think of a retort, Karch continued. "This is quite amusing, actually." He smiled, and Ralan was again nervous. As he found out earlier, when Karch smiled that could only mean that bad things were about to happen.

"What do you mean?" Ralan could have kicked himself for asking the question. It revealed his uncertainty to Karch, and he couldn't afford to show him any more weakness.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough." Karch didn't say anything more.

The smile hadn't left Karch's face, and Ralan couldn't take it. "Did my brother say what he wanted?"

"Why, yes he did."

"And what was that?" Ralan knew that his questions were bordering on impertinence, and he expected a slap or worse. Before Karch could reply with an answer or a slap, however, the carriage ground to a halt. Ralan pulled himself up, taking care not to jostle his stomach.

They emerged near a dock. The Merchant Guild tower was nowhere to be seen. "This isn't the Guild tower," Ralan noted as he stumbled out of the carriage.

"Of course not, the streets are too busy with preparations for tomorrow's parade. We're taking a guild boat."

Ralan looked toward the river, and there was a small Merchant Guild transport boat at an old fishing dock. A sailor stood in front of it, waiting for them. Karch seemed practically joyful as he waved him to the boat. "Hurry now, the Guildmaster awaits."

The boat wasn't one of the smaller rowboats used for casual trips on a summer day. It was wide but sleek, with a broad sail. The deck was polished wood, and there was a small cabin for privacy and shelter. The sail was the royal blue of the Merchant Guild. Made to seat a dozen or more, it was used for official guild business. The Captain stood at attention as Ralan gingerly took a seat at the back of the boat.

Ralan watched as Karch sat down and straightened his robe. The boat set course upriver to the Merchant Guild Tower. Ralan closed his eyes as the boat swayed and rocked. It felt comforting, but the more Ralan considered his day the more he felt vulnerable and afraid. He had been beaten before. He had been hauled off to his brother before. He had faced Karch's abuse before. But this all felt so different, and it was starting to scare him.

Figuring he had nothing to lose, Ralan spoke up again. "Deputy Karch, I understand that it was disrespectful to assault a member of the Knight Guild, even with a tomato. But surely that's not deserving of a severe punishment."

Karch was the type of person to ignore the pleading and focus on Ralan's statement that he wasn't deserving of punishment. Ralan steeled himself for the worst, whether it was a confirmation of some dreadful punishment or a physical reminder that he should only speak when spoken to.

But the slap Ralan expected didn't arrive. Rather, Karch looked over to him with the same annoying smile he had worn since he had arrived at the Four Triangles. "My dear Master Ralan, whatever makes you think you are facing punishment?"

And with a chuckle Karch turned his back on him.