Visit Valierre's best customer first.

"Capt'n ma'am," Murdock said as they walked along the lower-town street. His good eye scanned left and right, not pausing to catch the captain's.

"Mr. Murdock?" Emily Flint replied.

"The sailor there, he was one of Owen Cornwall's crew," her tall companion replied. He coughed. "No sense in that, unless it was that he was young, stupid, and greedy."

Owen Cornwall was a captain whose crew's discipline in port was as strong as in battle. Emily knew him as a sharp dealer, but one careful not to cross anyone who would make his life hard.

"Loose lips," Captain Flint replied. If someone had spilled her business, the port could be alive with enemies. She was glad of her standing orders. Mr. Fletcher could deal with the crew's chafing and the ship would be safe. But she feared for Miss Valierre, and for her object today.

"Ma'am," Murdock acknowledged, taking it as a mild correction.

"Not yours," the captain said. She frowned. "We shall call on Arthur Jermyn first," she said.

"Aye capt'n."

Jermyn's chandlery was not far away. His extensive warehouse dealt with the staples of provisioning and shipfitting, the miscellanies of tar, cord, brass, wood and wax that had to be replenished for a ship to sail sweetly. His side businesses served to lift him above the ranks of shopkeepers, even though as 'trade', he was not a true member of Port Ruby's best society. But he and Emily Flint got on well, and had ever since Valierre had introduced them.

Emily Flint was Valierre's second most loyal client, and Jermyn her first. More than once, a flushed and tousled Valierre had leaped from the lazy embrace of a fulfilled Captain Flint to keep a tryst with Arthur Jermyn. "You do warm her up so wonderfully," Jermyn had once remarked, though Captain Flint had declined to encourage his further conversational sallies toward engaging Valierre for a joint appointment.

Mr. Jermyn greeted them from the balcony of his private office that nestled under the eaves of the warehouse. "Good day, Captain! Mr. M., well well," he called down to them on the main floor.

Murdock and the captain clambered up the rope ladder fixed below Jermyn's loft, quicker than the stairs. Jermyn invited them to sit down. After Murdock gave the place a fishy eye for a minute -- no place to hide much, he and the captain sat. Jermyn rang for tea and it was soon delivered by windlass basket.

Jermyn closed the door and windows of his little sky-cabin, shutting out the sounds of the warehouse below.

The captain sipped her tea and held her peace, though smiling inside. Jermyn had chosen a blend with rose petals. Pink roses, no doubt. He'd never give up. But Jermyn wasn't her cup of tea, unless he was holding something back to surprise her. To think nothing of the complications. A fellow admirer of Miss Valierre was quite close enough.

Murdock stayed alert. He sniffed at the tea, touched it with his tongue and put it down.

"What brings you here today, Captain? I do hope your quartermaster is keeping well," Jermyn said.

"Well enough," Captain Flint said. "You may see him presently. I came to enquire about a mutual acquaintance, in truth."

"Well, we are both well-known, to our joy and sorrow, Captain," Jermyn said. "Of whom would you speak?"

"I hear Miss Valierre has risen to the ownership of The Pink Flower since I last called," Emily said. "Is she keeping well?"

Jermyn smiled broadly. "Well enough," he said. "'It's good to be queen,' she says. And that is not the only news of Madam Valierre."

"Do tell?" the captain asked.