Rum Ginny stamped her foot on the stone floor of the basement. It was impossible, but it seemed to Stu like the very ground shook. Then she screamed. He was very glad that the walls were so thick; Ginny's scream could raise the dead.

"I WON'T!" she screamed, hitting his chest over and over, enraged in a tantrum. "I ent got nowhere to go! I hate the nomads! I hate them!!"

Stu placed both of his large hands on the young witch's shoulders and tried to pry her off of him; her fingernails were sharp.

"I'm not leaving!" she repeated, glaring at him with her most fearsome expression and baring her teeth. "Vienda's my home."

The bartender sighed, glancing up at the ceiling, where slits of light shone through from the lighted but unoccupied tavern above. He hoped no one had heard her. He looked back down at the girl, whose lip was quivering. Her big, bottle-green eyes were blinking furiously with rage.

"Gin, you won't have a choice," he said, exasperated. He felt a painful twinge of sadness as he looked at her. "Everyone knows you work here. Someone's going to slip up. It's too dangerous."

Bursting into tears, Ginny buried her face in his shirt. "I can't," she wailed piteously. "I just can't."

Stu sighed and patted her awkwardly on the back. Somewhere along the way it evolved into an awkward hug. "I can't let anything happen to you," he explained quietly.

"I could go into hiding," came her small voice, muffled with his shirt. He heard her blow her nose and rolled his eyes a little.

"What kind of a life would that be, now?" he said. "Always duckin' in the shadows? You want to be like Ox, who doesn't even have a face anymore? You deserve better than that, Gin..."

"Be quiet," she said fiercely, shaking her head. "I'm almost sixteen. I can decide for myself where to go. You turnin' me away? Fine, then. I'll go an' stay with the clockin' party, then. I ent gettin' my britches in a bunch over some extra uncles on the streets, like some people."

"My britches are not bunched," protested Stu. "I think this will blow over. But until it does, you need to clear off. Your... your tribe..."

"Clock that!" screeched Ginny suddenly. Stu jumped back instinctively to avoid being hit by something. "I ent never goin' back there! Forget it, Stu, I'm stayin' in Vienda an' that's that!"

The bartender looked at her. It would kill him to lose Ginny - she was the closest thing to family he'd ever had.

"You can stay for a bit longer, then," he relented wearily. Ginny's face lit up. "In the top room. Don't come down until we're shut for the night. Don't leave the building. You hear me? Ever. Unless it's on fire, and even then you best consider how much you like the heat. If they deport you, Gin, you might end up in all manner of bad spots. I couldn't abide that happenin'."

The girl smiled lopsidedly, red-faced, not used to Stu being so protective. She was not happy about having to stay in the tower, but it was better than nothing.

"I'll be careful," she promised. "Won't set foot outside. No sir."

"Good," said Stu. He patted her on the head gently. "I best get upstairs and see if we have any customers tonight. You sneak up to the top now - stay out of sight, stay out of field range."

She nodded.

The main room of the tavern was deserted when he stepped behind the bar. As Ginny slipped upstairs, quiet as a mouse, he began washing cups, slowly, methodically. His mind was troubled. This wouldn't blow over - that's what his instincts told him. This wouldn't end easily. He shouldn't have let her stay. She was in danger, staying in Vienda; they all were.

Fion stepped into the B&B almost reluctantly. The place was quiet but it was only early evening yet. She had organised to meet with Ceres that night but she had work imbetween there and then.

She saw Stu behind the bar but could see no sign of Gin.

"Hi..." She said, feeling awkward. "I guess you've heard then."

She rubbed the back of her head.

"Do you... Do you know what you're going to do?"

Fion had Piran and Stu had Ginny. It was pretty much the same thing.

Stu didn't go red when Fion entered; his mind was too much in turmoil. Ginny was probably sitting alone in the top room, bored, angry...and he had to tend the bar to keep them in bread and rent. It made him feel rather powerless.

Nodding, he began to automatically pour Fion's favorite drink, like a reflex.

"She's upstairs," he said in a deadpan voice. "I tried to convince her to leave, but she'll have none of it."

He glanced at her, not knowing whether to bring up Piran or not.

Fion's lips quirked. "That sounds like her."

She sat down at the bar and accepted her drink. She knew she shouldn't drink before work but what did she care? She probably wasn't going to be there much longer.

"I'm thinking of bailing. Going somewhere where the seventen can't hurt my baby. I'm thinking Old Rose." Normally she wouldn't have been so maudlin but she felt like indulging. "I haven't let him outside for about a day. He's going nuts."

Fion took a sip from her glass. It didn't taste as good as usual. Nothing did. She wondered if she'd ever stop feeling like she was about to vomit.

"If Ginny decides she wants to come too, not that she will, she'd always be welcome at my table." Fion bit her lip. "You know what I mean."

She sounded old to her own ears.

"Will you be ok?" She asked, not bothering to move. She hated this. She hated every part of it.

Stu's heart stopped when Fion mentioned she might leave town. For a second he looked stunned, as though he'd been boxed in both ears. Small dots of light popped in front of his eyes and his heart sank into his stomach.

His usual expression slid easily back onto his face as he tried not to immediately beg her to stay. Of course, he thought to himself, it would be better for her...

"Not Old Rose," he couldn't help but say. Realizing that might have sounded a bit desperate, he clarified calmly. "Plenty of other places to go. That's no place to raise a kid, if you don't mind my sayin' so, Fi."

This was torture. His mind flashed to her scarf, which was folded neatly into a triangle in his breast pocket. Everything inside him wanted to yell something profane; Fion might have heard the sound of his teeth gnashing together.

He really wanted to say that the resistance would do anything to keep Piran safe, that she would be fine, that this would blow over, that nothing would change and she could keep coming to the bar every day and talking to him like the riot had never happened, like they weren't both fighting a silent war against an unstoppable enemy, if only she wouldn't leave...

Fion's eyes were focused on her hands. She didn't miss the catch in Stu's voice but she imagined it was more to do with Ginny than herself.

"I don't know if there are." Fion said, thinking about how on earth she was going to break this to Dem. "I can't go back to the Stacks, it'd be too risky. Smaller towns wouldn't have much work going around for a seamstress, everyone does their own work. The bars are no better. Not good places for wicks either, truth be told, or single mothers."

Her eyes felt wet. So that was it, the bitter taste of failure, yet again.

"How long do you think Ginny can hold out, hiding here?" Fion felt for her, painfully. "Maybe the resistance..."

She petered off. What could the resistance do? Hide her more?

"I'm going to speak to Mr. Ceres about it," said Stu, gritting his teeth at the thought. He couldn't bring himself to like the man, knowing what he was, and knowing how carefully he hid it. "Tomorrow. He owes me a big favor. As far as I know, they're just nickin' wicks off the street...they're not searchin' buildings."

He noticed she was looking upset, and carefully looked away, pretending to be interested in the glass he was washing.

"We've got the storm cellar, Fi, if things go from bad to worse," he said. "Safest place in Vienda, save the How, I guess. No one's gonna take him from you. This is all gonna pass over, like storm clouds."

Fion sighed in relief.

"That's good to know. So long as I keep him inside he'll be ok."

If she could keep him inside...



Fion choked out a sob, made more painful in her attempts at holding it back.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." If someone took Piran, she wouldn't survive.

She put her empty glass down.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get funny while I was here." She'd done enough crying today. "I should go to work."

She stood up from the stool she was at. She couldn't even manage a smile. "I'll keep you both in my thoughts."

It took every ounce of resolve for Stu not to reach over to comfort her. As always, there were three feet of solid oak between them - a barrier that could not be breached, not without some major stretching. He tried to keep his eyes and his hands busy with the glasses.

"If you want," he said gently, without looking at her, "I can drop in to check on Piran while you're at the Tiger."

Fion sniffed and smiled at Stu. "Thank you, I've got the babysitter in, so he'll be ok. I haven't told her yet but she likes Piran, she wouldn't rat him out."

If it weren't for the fact that the bar was there, she would have hugged him as a sign of solidarity. She wondered why he wouldn't look at her and decided it was because he was upset as well.

"Take care, Stu." Fion said, walking slowly out of the bar.

She hurt all over.

A small crack in the door opened, and a everybody's favorite malnourished wick slid in. Carefully, he closed it behind them and slunk over to the coutner. Momentarily, his eyes glanced around, "Where's Ginny? Gods! Did they take her!?"

Stu, still staring after Fion, motioned towards the top loft.

"Not yet, anyway," he said quietly. "What about you, Tito? Are you headed out, or in?"

He kept his words vague; you never knew who was working for the resistance these days. Further in meant deep within the resistance cell, within the How. Few knew how large of a commitment it was, or what they were signing up for by accepting Serro's charity. He doubted that Ceres even knew.