The Book and Bell began the evening bustling with start-of-the-week enthusiasm; workers coming off from the late shift in the Soot District were piling up against the bar, and Ginny was sweating with the effort of serving them all. Her new help wasn't much help at all, she thought bitterly.

It wasn't that she didn't like Phineas, but he was so dark. He seemed to be always brooding over the bottles, as though choosing the wrong one would kill the customer in question, or as though they had some sort of deep meaning beyond the obvious use. She couldn't understand it, so she didn't try; some tiny, prejudiced part of her felt that all humans were far too dramatic.

He'd been sent up to guard the Gateway the other day when Stu went underground to meet with the up-tops. She'd pleaded with him not to go, but after a couple days of wrestling with him she'd eventually given up. His replacement was no good at all. Couldn't even mix a proper Chrove's Erse; she was left to pick up the slack, and the natives were getting restless.

By twenty-seven o'clock, the newcomers had started to leave. Only a few regulars remained, brooding in their usual booths and tables, hanging from the rafters, stationed in the corners of the bar as usual.

It isn't nearly as dangerous or exciting as it sounds, she reflected, Guardian of the Gateway. We just sit around waiting for something to go wrong. In a tavern. A tavern with rats. I miss Stu. He always made this feel like an adventure.

She was nervous, of course, being on the floor at this time, but no galdor could even come down the street without her knowing. The resistance had taken such good care of them over the years. It's no wonder Stu wants to give back, she thought.

"Virginia," said Phineas suddenly. She cringed. Only Stu was allowed to call her by that name.
"It's Ginny," she snapped. "What is it this time? Mixed up the gin and vodka again?"
"I think you'd better come look at this," he said.

Something gripped her heart at the same moment that a thump issued from behind the bar. The trapdoor was lifting; a few of the regulars looked up from their tables, but they weren't at all surprised. Ginny, however, felt nervous; no one ever used that door.

A very filthy little hand passed up a note; Phineas took it and opened it up, reading it aloud to all the bar.

"By proclamation," he said, "all citizens with a writ of residence are hereby permitted within the city walls. A continued ban exists on the members of any nomadic or sovereign group who do not hold written and signed proof of their residency. By Order of the Queen."

There was a loud silence, and then a cheer went up, filling the tavern from floor to rafters, echoing in the beams above and in all of the rooms; the acoustics were very good in the Book and Bell. The local musician in the corner began striking up a lively tune on his fiddle. Ginny felt her face flush red, and a wide grin took over her features as she danced up and down.

"I can go outside again," she cried happily, hugging Phineas around his skinny neck. "Oh, we've got to tell the others! Quick, you lot by the door, get the word out!"

"Wait," said Phineas. The room fell silent once more, the fiddle screeching to a halt. "This isn't official yet," he said slowly, "or we'd have heard something. This is intelligence. We can't spread it around until..."

Ginny slapped him across the face; he looked stunned. "Well then why'd you read it aloud, you great git?!" she cried, and the rest of the room broke out into wry grins.

"Still good, little daughter," said Oxidus behind her. Ginny jumped and turned around to see him hanging upside down from the ceiling. She scowled. "We should make preparations. The United Tribes must be notified at once. Those in hiding must be told as well."

"Yeah," she agreed. Wistfully, she wished Stu were there; he knew all the bells and whistles for getting in touch with everyone. She felt very alone, not having anyone to celebrate with; even Ceres was away on some sort of business for Serro, and she only felt positively towards him on a good day. Still, a little warm glow lit up inside of her; soon, she would not be a prisoner in her own city anymore. Very soon.

"Look," she said, glancing towards the tavern door. "The rush is about to hit again."