The directions the waiter gave him lead Inric to a square dominated by an imposing building with elegant arches and a spire. He hesitates. It doesn't look like a bakery. "Oh, hello." He turns. It's the teahouse girl, leaning on the wall opposite the building and smiling at him. "Is this the Bakers' Guild Hall?" he asks. "Yes, why?" "I want to talk to the... bakers?" He hopes the word means what he thinks it does. "The person who makes the food for your..." "For the teahouse?" she interrupts. "Oh, no. I mean, yes. I mean, oh dear," and she laughs. "This is Ithel's fault, isn't it? He talks too fast."