“What is ... ?” she started to ask, when finally he sat beside her again and collected the reins.

“You’ll see,” he said.

He guided the sleigh onto Garden Street. It wasn’t a particularly gardenlike neighborhood, even when it wasn’t winter. Still, it was a solid street of middle- to lower-class merchants and tradesmen. Their houses stood tightly together, smoke issuing from chimneys.

Her father brought the drays to a halt in front of a tall narrow house sided with cedar shakes, just like all the others.

“This is Garden House,” he said, startling her. “We shall go in for a brief visit—it’s time I brought you here, because as my heir, you will one day become its steward.”

What was he talking about? Before she could ask questions, however, he said, “Look and listen, and you shall see.”

He spread blankets across the backs of the horses, then removed a basket from the sleigh, leaving the rest of his purchases in the rear. He strode toward the house and Karigan could do nothing but follow.

Her father bounded up the front steps and knocked on the door. Within moments it was opened by a matronly woman with steel gray hair. At once she smiled.

“Master G’ladheon!” she exclaimed.

“Greetings, Lona,” he said. “How are you?”

“Never better,” the woman replied, “and now even better than better to see you. Come in, come in out of the cold!”

Karigan followed her father into the dim entry hall and was conscious of others peering from doorways and around corners.

Her father handed the basket over to Lona. “Fresh baked oat muffins,” he said.

She lifted the cloth that covered them. “Ooh! They look delicious!”

“There is more out in the sleigh,” her father said.

“Oh, Master G’ladheon, you shouldn’t have!”

He grinned. “Of course I should have.”

“Jed! Clare!” A boy and girl came running down the stairs at Lona’s shout. “Master G’ladheon has brought us some things. Please unload the back of his sleigh for him.”

Without taking the time to put on coats, the youngsters dashed out the door.

“You must have tea with us,” Lona said, her gaze falling curiously on Karigan.

“I’m afraid we must decline. Another time perhaps. But, I wish to introduce my daughter, Karigan. One day she’ll be watching over Garden House.”

Lona gave Karigan a solemn curtsy. “I am pleased to meet you, mistress.”

“Me, too,” Karigan said, much bemused.

“We are grateful for all your father and Mistress Silva have done for us,” Lona said.

Karigan glanced sharply at her father at the naming of the Golden Rudder’s madam. Garden House, however, did not have the air or appearance of a brothel. She didn’t know what to make of it.

“Have we any new residents?” her father asked.

Lona nodded and glanced down the hall. “Vera, dear, please come meet Master G’ladheon. Don’t be shy; he is most kind.”

A figure emerged from the shadows of a doorway and limped toward them. When more light fell upon her, Karigan’s heart skipped a beat. Much of her face was a mass of burn scars. Karigan was immediately reminded of her friend Mara, whose own face was badly scarred when Rider barracks burned down. Karigan judged the young woman to be her own age. She did not approach closely.

“Vera,” Lona said, “this is Master G’ladheon, our patron, and his daughter, Karigan.”

Vera curtsied, but did not speak.

“Hello, Vera,” Karigan’s father said with a nod. “I want you to know you are most welcome here. Welcome to stay as long as you need. And safe.”

“Thank you,” Vera said in a tentative voice, and she receded back into the shadows.

Lona drew closer to Karigan and her father, and said in a low, confiding voice, “Vera’s husband hurt her. Threw lamp oil on her and burned her for no reason other than his dinner was a little late.” As Lona spoke, Karigan could hear the fury behind her words. “He did that, and other things. One of Mistress Silva’s people brought her to us from Rivertown. It was best, we thought, she be hidden some distance away from her husband.”

Karigan glanced at her father and saw his brows knitted together in anger. “You did right,” he said.

Just then, Jed and Clare returned, arms loaded with some of the foodstuffs Karigan’s father had purchased.

“Master G’ladheon, it’s too much!” Lona said.

“There’s more out there,” Jed said, with wide eyes.

Karigan’s father just grinned.

Lona decided Karigan must meet the rest of Garden House’s residents, and one by one, they filed by to curtsy and bow to Karigan and her father. Mostly they were young women, some with children, a babe or two of suckling age among them.

Her father greeted each of them by name, and received a kiss or smile in return, none so reticent as Vera had been. Meanwhile, Jed and Clare brought in the rest of the goods from the sleigh.

There was much oohing and aahing over the size of the turkey, which seemed to dwarf Jed, and once again Lona asked that they stay for tea or supper, and once again, Karigan’s father declined.

They made their good-byes and walked in silence back to the sleigh while the residents of Garden House watched and waved from the front step and windows.

As Karigan’s father removed the blankets from the backs of the drays, she demanded, “What was that all about? Who were those people?”