A young sailor in the bright blue coat of the Royal Navy caught Elizabeth's eye. He had ginger hair much like Liam's and he inched by their table, sending them a sliding, sideways glance that hesitated on Hannah, and finally jerked away. Elizabeth realized now that while she had seen many Indians on the docks and in the streets, Hannah was the only one in this public house. Suddenly the high cost of the table took on new meaning, which made her distinctly uneasy and vaguely angry.

"I don't like Sorel," said Hannah, calmly dismembering an onion layer by layer. She said it once in English, for Curiosity, and then again in Kahnyen'kehâka, for herself.

"There's a bright child," said Curiosity, stabbing at her meat.

"Further evidence of her good sense," agreed Elizabeth. "But we shall make the best of Sorel, nevertheless. I believe there are rooms for rent here, perhaps even a tub and hot water."

Curiosity eyed the innkeeper's wife and snorted softly. "For the right price, maybe."

Hannah finished her onion and leaned over to wipe a line of dribble from Lily's chin. "I'd like to clean up," she conceded. "If there's time."

"There may well be," said Elizabeth. "Here comes Captain Mudge and I'm afraid it doesn't look like good news."

In fact the news was not good. The captain and owner of the Nell was uneasy transporting women and children under normal circumstances, and no amount of coin could move him to do so on his first run of the season. Elizabeth sat, digesting this latest setback, in silence. With one finger she touched the spot between her breasts where she wore a single five-guinea gold piece on a long chain, along with her other treasures. No amount of coin, she thought. I wonder.

Relieved of his bad news, the captain lit his pipe and leaned back on the settle.

"There's another boat," he said in a gruff but apologetic tone. "I know the captain, and he'd take you, for the right price. But it ain't exactly ladylike on board, Mrs. Bonner."

"It is not a very long journey," Elizabeth said, casting a glance at the twins, who blinked back at her. "When does he sail?"

Captain Mudge gnawed thoughtfully on his pipe. "Sooner rather than later."

Elizabeth caught Curiosity's eye.

"Seem like there ain't much choice," said the older woman.

"Hannah?"

She nodded. "We might as well move on."

"Well, then," said Elizabeth. "Perhaps we should go talk to this captain--"

"Stoker. An Irishman," said Grievous Mudge. With a creak and a groan he pushed himself up from the table, reaching for his tricorn. "You'd best wait here," he said. "If he don't want to be found I could be a while putting my hands on him." He cast a look over his shoulder at the innkeeper's wife, leaned forward and whispered. "You'll need a room. There's one upstairs, she'd give it to you until the morning for a reasonable price. It has a door and a stairway of its own, you see."

"This Irishman ain't exactly made hisself popular, I take it," said Curiosity, with little regard for whispering.

The captain raised one grizzled eyebrow in salute of her quick understanding. "It would be a sight easier," he agreed.

"What about Runs-from-Bears?" asked Elizabeth.

The broad mouth turned down at one corner. "No need to hand over a list of visitors." Another quick peek over his shoulder and then back again to Elizabeth. "No need at all."

She might have rested, for the feather beds were freshly made with clean linen, and there had been hot water enough for all of them. The babies, bathed and fed, were sleeping deeply, and so was Hannah, twitching slightly in her dreams. After some urging, Curiosity had even put up her feet and gone to sleep, a worry line etched firmly between her brows.

But she could not rest, and so Elizabeth sat in a chair by the window, drowsing now and then but mostly staring out at the town and river. There were still some ice floes in the St. Lawrence, poking up here and there like rotting teeth. She counted sails and pennants for a while, stark white and dirty gray, blues and yellows and reds against a fitful sky. A bateau headed upriver with a hump of barrels lashed to its deck, courting a reluctant wind with a single sail. Finally oars went into the water to help it along.

On the street below, a carter cursed at his ox, his whip flashing. A boy darted out of a shop with a basket of fish, his bare feet kicking up a mist of muddy water that spattered two Royal Navy officers from heel to the brim of their great boatlike hats. They shook their fists at him, but he never looked back. Elizabeth thought of her schoolchildren in Paradise, many of the boys much like the ones on the street below. For a long moment she fought with tears of frustration and doubt and a simple and overwhelming homesickness for familiar things.

The sight of Runs-from-Bears on the street was welcome. He came around a corner with Captain Mudge, who whirled one arm vigorously in the telling of a story. With the other hand he plucked his pipe from his mouth to point it up the street toward the docks. Then he raised his head and pointed to the window, and catching sight of Elizabeth, bowed, clearly flustered. But it was the expression on Bears' face that got her attention. More trouble. Elizabeth thought of waking Curiosity, but then she simply picked up her damp cloak and let herself quietly out of the room. At least one of them should be rested. Whatever new trouble there was, she would handle it on her own.

"Gallows?" she repeated, as if she had never heard the word before and could put no meaning to it.