Words Aefric hadn’t heard.

  It was a long walk, back to his apartments, and Aefric opted to pass through a hidden hallway door and take the servants’ backway — a series of concealed stairs and passages that networked much of the castle — rather than risk encountering courtiers he really didn’t want to speak to this morning.

  This way, with two guards in his wake, he passed only servants, who were quick to make way for their duke.

  A smile was too much for him, at the moment, but he gave each servant a word of greeting — by name, where the he knew them — as he passed.

  He could afford to. They wouldn’t try to interrupt him, or distract his line of thought with demands he didn’t have time for.

  Back in his apartments, Aefric gave his cloak to Ocheda, who arched a sharp eyebrow as though doubting that Aefric’s need for it had passed. Nevertheless, she took the cloak with a bow, but not a single word of complaint or objection.

  Aefric then stepped into his bedroom, opened his spell-guarded chest, and retrieved a certain something from a special sack in his backpack.

  Finally, he returned to the public floor of his apartments, and entered his meeting room.

  In truth, Aefric probably had scores of rooms in Water’s End that he could use for meetings. But, by tradition, the duke met each morning with his most trusted advisers in his own apartments, in a room designed for such meetings.

  Despite the same high ceiling as most of his rooms, the meeting room felt small. The round, blackwood table in the center had seating for eight, which left the two long walls feeling close.

  Probably didn’t help that the walls were paneled in black oak, like the floorboards. No plaster in here.

  The short walls, in contrast, felt farther away. But not that far, because one was covered in cabinets and shelves — full of maps, books about tactics and strategies, travelogues of nearby countries, written by past dukes, duchesses, and trusted courtiers.

  The other short wall, this morning, held a buffet breakfast of fresh fruits, sliced ham and beef, and honeyed oat bread, along with several ewers of water, and goblets.

  Aefric’s stomach growled almost as loud a greeting to the food as Aefric spoke to his advisers, who were all present and waiting.

  Ser Yrsa, his general, who looked battle ready, despite dressing in a dark brown tunic with light brown hose, rather than the full plate armor she favored so often.

  Of course, she did still wear both her great maces at her belt.

  Kentigern, his seneschal, who hadn’t changed his clothes, but had at least cleaned himself up after his earlier exertions.

  Ser Calder Ol’Ulith, Aefric’s castellan. Nearly three times Aefric’s age, Ser Calder still looked as though he’d been forged from even better steel than the excellent broadsword at his side.

  Ser Calder wore Deepwater colors this morning, a navy blue doublet over a Deepwater gray tunic, and navy blue hose. His gray hair he wore short and slicked back — as though he might be going into battle any minute.

  And, as always, his sharp brown eyes seemed to deduce more from a single glance at Aefric than most could have known after five minutes of conversation.

  Elkari Ol’Nuval, Aefric’s historian. She had been the chief assistant to the ducal historian until this past winter, when her predecessor passed. After that, she’d served the role of ducal historian in a temporary capacity until the new duke found a replacement.

  Although several in his court had suggested that — having seen only thirty or so summers — Elkari was too young for her post, Aefric had needed only one meeting with her this spring to not only confirm her in the position, but name her to his ducal council.

  Her command of Armyr’s and Deepwater’s histories was simply too impressive to risk losing.

  Elkari favored breeches and tunic, in browns that went well with the dusky hue of her complexion, and this morning was no exception.

  She wore her hair short, and her main adornment was ink stains on her hands.

  The other adviser present was, of course, Ser Beornric, who wore his full plate armor, complete with longsword.

  One adviser was missing, of course. Karbin. Still on his mission, and still without word.

  Aefric stood the Brightstaff beside his chair, then fetched himself a plate of food before taking his seat.

  “All right,” he said, after placating his stomach with at least a bite of fresh roast beef. “We should probably start with the princesses.”

  “I do apologize for interrupting your grace this morning,” Kentigern said. “But giving Princess Astrid that report would have been disastrous.”

  “Why?” Aefric said, then, as everyone else at the table started to speak, he held up a hand to make them wait. “I understand that it’s a royal report, and that I need royal permission before showing it to anyone. Well, anyone outside this room.”

  Aefric shook his head. “What I don’t understand is why that report must be kept secret. The information was gained under the auspices of Taesark. Its truth is unquestionable.”

  “But its information may not be common knowledge,” Ser Calder said pointedly.

  “Consider it this way,” Ser Yrsa said. “That report contains a good deal of what we know of Malimfar’s activities in Deepwater and Merrek. But there may have been other activities not connected to Ser Grud.”

  “Oh,” Aefric said, drawing the sound out. “So you’re saying that, in giving the report to Malimfar, we could be confirming for them what we don’t know of their activities.”

  “More than that,” Ser Yrsa said. “You’d be giving them the opportunity to review what we’ve learned, and present the same information to us from a different angle. An angle that makes them look innocent.”

  “Or at least makes Princess Astrid look innocent,” Kentigern said. “Which might be important, if they intend to seek marriage between the two of you.”

  “Plausible deniability,” Aefric muttered.

  “How was that?” Ser Calder asked.

  “Plausible deniability. It’s the concept of doing something on someone’s behalf, without telling them. So that, if the action fails or has unintended consequences, that person remains ignorant of any wrongdoing. If not necessarily innocent.”

  “Well, of course,” Elkari said. “I confess the phrase is new to me, but the concept is quite old and well-known, your grace. I could provide a number of examples.”

  “No need,” Aefric said. “And remember, Elkari, that I don’t stand on formality in these meetings.”

  “Yes, y—” Elkari firmed her lips and bowed her head.

  “What did you think of the princesses?” Kentigern asked Aefric.

  “And how did you get rid of them so quickly?” Ser Beornric asked, smiling broad enough to tug at his scars.

  “Last night I thought they seemed decent enough, if caught up in their own personal rivalry. But this morning…” Aefric shook his head. “Now I’m not sure they said a sincere word the entire time I spent with them.”

  “They are princesses from foreign kingdoms,” Ser Calder said. “One of a recent enemy, and the other of a tentative friend. They will present you only the face they wish you to see.”

  “In that,” Aefric said, “I think they fell short. Their rivalry was too strong.” He sipped some water through a thought. “And I can’t help but wonder why Princess Xenia said nothing through the whole question of my giving Princess Astrid a copy of that report.”

  “If you would do that for an enemy,” Ser Yrsa said simply, “how much further would you go for a friend?”

  “All right,” Aefric said. “As to their leaving, Princess Astrid promised to investigate Malimfar’s espionage and give me a report of her findings. She left this morning to begin her investigation. Though it’s safe to say her report will present Malimfar in the best possible light.”

  “Nevertheless,” Ser Calder said, “what they tell us will have value, as will what they don’t.”

  “And Princess Xenia,” Aefric said. “I think she intended to stay for some time—”

  “I’ll guarantee that,” Kentigern said.

  “But,” Aefric continued, “after she promised to use Caiperas’ trade contacts to seek information about the slaver ring, Princess Astrid pressured her into leaving to get started.”

  “Easy promise to make,” Ser Beornric said, running his fingers over his mustache. “Safe, too.”

  “I know,” Aefric said. “But much the same as with Malimfar, what Caiperas doesn’t tell us may be as informative as what they do.”

  “You suspect them of involvement with the slavers?” Elkari asked, sounding shocked.

  “At this point I don’t rule it out,” Aefric said, “but I was referring to the strength and breadth of their trade contacts.”

  “A good thought,” Kentigern said, tugging on his beard. “Does this mean you intend to send her report to his majesty?”

  “I intend to send copies of both reports to his majesty.”

  All three knights present knocked the table in approval. And so did the historian.

  Aefric had to smile at that. Knocking the table to show approval had been something only his knights had done in previous meetings. Apparently the practice was spreading.

  “Now,” Aefric said, more seriously. “Speaking of the slavers, I haven’t heard from Karbin yet. He hasn’t sent a rika by any chance?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Kentigern said. “Though there has been a rika from Ajenmoor. An official objection from the city council to your bringing armed knights and soldiers into a council meeting.”

  Aefric frowned puzzlement. “Seriously?”

  “Apparently,” Kentigern said, frowning as well, “that had not been done in two hundred years. And they ask that, in the future, your grace respect their traditions.”

  “They have guts,” Ser Yrsa said. “I’ll give them that.”

  “Did the mayor sign it?” Ser Calder asked.

  “No. There were three names, but not his.”

  Ser Calder snorted. “Ignore it then. Or perhaps punish them for it, if you feel offended. It’s a token objection from the old guard, who are losing power in Ajenmoor to the rising merchant navies. Bet I could even name the signatories.”

  “Would Galdiff be one of them?” Aefric asked.

  “Galdiff Reteka?” Ser Calder asked.

  Aefric hadn’t caught the man’s last name, but Sers Yrsa and Beornric both nodded.

  Ser Calder scoffed. “Never. He leads the new guard. And the mayor is caught between both factions.”

  “I may want to hear more about that later,” Aefric said, pulling a heavy pouch from his belt and holding it above the table. “But we have something more important to discuss next.”

  He dumped the contents of that pouch onto the table.

  A single, large gold nugget.

  For a moment, silence reigned in Aefric’s meeting room, as each of his advisers stared at the large, remarkably clean gold nugget on the table in front of their duke.

  Sers Yrsa and Beornric had already seen it, of course, and only nodded. Perhaps pleased that they were finally going to discuss this matter.

  Aefric passed the nugget around the table, letting each of the advisers inspect it and reassure themselves of its veracity.

  While they did, Aefric refilled his plate from the buffet. More sliced roast beef, sharp yellow cheese, and slices of pear and that sweet citrus so popular with sailors for its bite, nava.

  He noticed he was the only one eating, but wasn’t too surprised. The others had likely taken their normal breakfasts while he’d been down seeing off the princesses.

  “I take it,” Ser Calder said, after everyone had seen the gold nugget, “that this didn’t come from any of your usual mines in the Threepeaks?”

  “It came from the Dragonscar,” Aefric said, and told them of the borogs, who could smell gold. Of the gold in the caves undeniably on his side of the Dragonscar, and the gold in the north-side cave that might not be his to mine.

  “You left borogs mining gold unguarded?” Ser Calder asked, practically radiating disapproval.

  “Not at all,” Aefric said, turning to Ser Yrsa. “In fact, do you have a report?”

  “I do,” she said with a nod. “All is quiet in the Dragonscar. Our scouts cannot even tell that the borogs are down there.”

  “Likely because they’ve tunneled away,” Ser Calder said, “and took the gold with them.”

  “Enough of that,” Aefric said, slashing his hand through the air.

  “He’s right,” Ser Beornric said to Ser Calder. “These two borogs, Ge’rek and Po’rek, clearly consider our duke to be their new chief, and are happy to dig for him.”

  Ser Yrsa knocked the table in agreement.

  “The borogs are not the question before us,” Aefric said.

  “The gold is,” Kentigern agreed. “Obviously, the south side caves are clearly yours, as is any gold you can dig up from them.”

  “What about the north side?” Aefric asked, turning to Elkari. “Is there any precedent for a situation like this?”

  “Not with a chasm such as the Dragonscar,” Elkari said slowly, frowning. She twirled the tips of her thumbs and looked at the ceiling as she continued. “Although throughout the history of Deepwater, ownership of the Dragonscar has always been plain, and understood to include its caves.”

  “Understood,” Ser Calder said. “Which means it hasn’t been tested. And if that north-side cave goes back very far, every foot it travels under Wylyn’s land will weaken your claim to the gold.”

  “What’s more, retrieving the gold would involve digging outward from those caves,” Kentigern said. “If I were Duke Wylyn, I would claim that the north side gold lies under my lands, and therefore is mine.”

  “He couldn’t come into the Dragonscar to mine it though,” Elkari said. “He has no right to come into Deepwater to mine.”

  “So,” Aefric said. “Wylyn can’t mine that cave because the cave is part of the Dragonscar, which is mine. But I can’t mine that gold, because it’s under Silverlake and Wylyn’s.”

  “Might be Duke Wylyn’s,” Elkari said. “There’s no strong precedent here.”

  “Duke Wylyn could just mine downward from his own ridge,” Ser Beornric said.

  “Far more dangerous, expensive and time consuming than using an existing cave,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “Not if the cave isn’t an option,” Ser Beornric countered.

  “Could be done as a joint venture,” Kentigern said. “With the gold being shared between you.”

  “I like that option best,” Aefric said. “But the question is how to begin. I was thinking of bringing the matter to his majesty for judgment.”

  “Without telling Duke Wylyn?” Kentigern asked, scandalized.

  “Well, that was one question I wanted to put before all of you. But before you answer, there’s another factor to consider.”

  Ser Beornric frowned and Ser Yrsa nodded. The others all sat forward, waiting to hear.

  Aefric told them how they’d tripped an alarm spell of some sort, and of the stone men who had then attacked.

  “So someone else knows about the gold,” Ser Calder said. “The question is who.”

  “The obvious answer is Duke Wylyn,” Ser Yrsa said. “So let’s add him to the list first.”

  “For much the same reason,” Elkari said, “Countess Briluufa must be considered.”

  “Who?” Aefric asked.

  “Countess Briluufa Ol’Galalifa,” Elkari said. “Silverlake is the smallest of Armyr’s duchies. Duke Wylyn Stormsent has few vassals, and only a single count. Countess Briluufa, whose lands touch both the shores of the Risen Sea, and a portion of the Dragonscar.”

  “That’s a point,” Ser Beornric said. “She might have sent scouts into the Dragonscar and found that gold. Same as Duke Wylyn might’ve.”

  “Let us not forget,” Elkair added, “that neither Countess Briluufa nor Duke Wylyn has the right to send their scouts into the Dragonscar. By both a royal decree going back two-hundred thirty years, and by custom before that, the king’s vassals are not allowed to scout beyond their own boundaries, save what their senses can tell them from a border.”

  “Point taken,” Aefric said. “But add her to the list. And what do we know of this Countess Briluufa?”

  “She led her troops from the front during the Godswalk Wars,” Ser Yrsa said. “Lost a son, who’d be about your age, but still has an heir, a daughter.”

  “She’s aggressive,” Ser Calder said. “Arinda used to complain about Briluufa at least once a season.”

  “Wait,” Aefric said. “Her lands reach the north side of the Dragonscar and the shores of the Risen Sea?”

  “That’s correct,” Elkari said.

  “You think she knew about the slavers,” Ser Beornric said.

  “Or at least the smugglers,” Aefric said. “If she’s as aggressive as all that, how likely is it that she doesn’t expect the new duke to be just as aggressive?”

  Ser Yrsa frowned in thought. “There’s logic to that. Would imply that she’d increase her scouting. Make her likely to have at least seen people using the Dragonscar as a transfer point.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s involved,” Kentigern said. “She might simply watch, because it’s not happening on her land.”

  “Might watch closely,” Ser Calder added, “to make sure it stays off her land.”

  “Let me guess,” Aefric said with a sigh. “And she wouldn’t say anything because why should she?”

  “Exactly,” Ser Yrsa said. “Not her affair. If asked, she might claim to have assumed they had at least your tacit blessing.”

  “I doubt she’d have the effrontery to go that far,” Ser Beornric said.

  “You haven’t met her,” Ser Calder said. “I have. Wouldn’t put it past her to test the new duke with a comment like that, and offer a half-hearted apology, if called on it.”

  “Point is,” Aefric said. “Duke Wylyn and Countess Briluufa are on the list. Who else?”

  “Mayor Brangton?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Possible,” Aefric said, “but unlikely. I still think that if he knew, he would have brought the discovery to me in person, angling to be ennobled and given charge of the land.”