The August 5 by Jenna Helland Page B

Shore’s payroll is going to be a serious problem for us.”
    â€œEverything will be harder from now on,” Mr. Leahy said. “Colston Shore is a dangerous man. He’s a bigot and an extremist in a way that goes beyond most Zunftmen.”
    There was a long silence. Tamsin tried to imagine what was happening. Were they staring into the fire? Was someone getting a cup of coffee?
    â€œAny news about Hywel?” Mr. Leahy finally asked.
    â€œNo,” Gavin said. “Colston and his cronies have tried hard to destroy his reputation. But if he arrives tomorrow, I still think he could put his faction back together.”
    â€œWhat was the vote on the Ancestral Homes Act?” Mr. Leahy asked.
    â€œSeventy-five to twenty-five,” Gavin said. “I’ll list the names in the newspaper for the public record.”
    â€œWhat about the trial?” Mr. Leahy said. “Has anyone been to the prison to see the fellows?”
    â€œNo one can get in to see them,” Gavin replied. “Jack’s wife, Meg, is at the jail every day, petitioning for a visit. She needs to be careful or she’s going to get arrested herself.”
    â€œI’ll do what I can,” Mr. Leahy said. “Henry’s daughter arrived a couple of days ago.”
    â€œDoes she know what Henry did?” Gavin asked.
    There was an awkward pause, and Tamsin imagined Mr. Leahy pointing at the ceiling. It may have occurred to him that she could hear the two men talking through the grate. It sounded like a chair scraped along the floor, and their voices grew quieter as they moved toward the kitchen but she could still hear them. She wondered if she should feel bad for eavesdropping, but there wasn’t really any way to avoid it.
    â€œCan you make her fake identification?” Leahy asked. “She’ll have to find work eventually.”
    â€œNow that the presses are running, we can start forging cards,” Gavin said. He stopped when someone knocked at the front door, which opened and closed loudly. Their voices were muffled as they talked to the newcomer in the kitchen. After a while, Tamsin heard someone climbing the squeaky stairs and a timid knocking on her already open door. Navid, the Leahys’ only child, was standing on the threshold, holding a tray with soup and a slice of bread. Tamsin pushed herself to a sitting position.
    â€œWhat time is it?” Tamsin asked the boy. She felt disoriented. Maybe it wasn’t even the night of the gathering she’d overheard earlier.
    â€œIt’s only half past eight at night,” he said, giving her a wide smile. “How’s your head?”
    Navid was an endearing combination of little boy and young adult. He was a tall, lean kid with wiry arms and legs, but his face was still round with baby fat.
    â€œHealing up, thanks,” she said, smiling back. The wound in her side had gotten infected, and she’d been fighting a fever ever since she arrived at the row house.
    â€œGood,” Navid said. “You haven’t seen any of Sevenna yet. Have you been to the city before?”
    Tamsin nodded. “I visited Papa here once. Maybe when I’m better I can work in the garden with you?”
    â€œWell, if Mama says it’s all right,” Navid said. He set the tray on her lap and plopped down at the foot of the bed. “You don’t look so good.”
    Tamsin pretended to be offended and swatted his shoulder, but she actually loved the honesty of children. There was no guile, no hidden agendas. The burns on her neck felt scabby and raw and she’d been cooped up inside for a week. She could only imagine how sickly and pale she must appear.
    â€œI just need to brush my hair,” Tamsin joked. “Then I’ll be ready for the formal dance.”
    Navid looked doubtful. Apparently her humor was lost on him.
    â€œYou were at the customs house?” she asked. “Your father told me that Papa