“Byrhta told me that night,” Aefric said, cocking an eyebrow, “that she thought the servants wanted her in my bed as much as she wanted to be there.”

  “Well,” Dajen said, in the same almost pained tone, though his expression was under control again. “I daresay that many members of the castle staff both here and at Behal would choose Mistress Byrhta as a bride for your grace, had they the choice. She’s quite popular.”

  “She is a charming one,” Aefric said.

  “And though Mistress Zoleen has her charms,” Dajen said, “she is neither so well known nor so well loved here or at Behal as Mistress Byrhta. Your grace should not expect Mistress Zoleen to be admitted anywhere your grace has not expressly permitted her.”

  “Good,” Aefric said, then shook his head.

  He was intending to sleep with this woman that night, but he wasn’t sure he trusted her.

  How strange his life had gotten.

  And to see how much stranger it was getting, he went to meet with his knight-advisers.

  When Aefric entered his meeting room, Sers Yrsa, Beornric and Calder were already standing. As though they hadn’t bothered to sit at the table during their wait.

  All three knights looked at Aefric, but he lit the yellow diamond atop the Brightstaff to warn them that he would speak first.

  “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I want some fresh air,” Aefric said. “Unless any of you have a reason not to, we’re taking this out onto the balcony.”

  For once, all three agreed.

  A few short minutes later, all three were seated on the greenwood furniture of Aefric’s public floor balcony. Dajen had sent to the kitchens for food, but the conversation couldn’t wait that long.

  The day was giving way to evening. The sun was setting somewhere on the other side of the castle, and in the distance to the east, Aefric could see the first wink of a star in the darkening sky.

  The air was balmy and still. The lake down below was busy with ships and boats, and if Aefric strained a bit, he could just hear the sounds of bells and work down on the docks.

  “Your grace?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Sorry,” Aefric said, sitting back and rolling his shoulders. “Long day. What news?”

  “Those knights I spoke of,” Ser Calder said. “I have their names now. Drenger Eyersson, Soren Isarson, Tohr Duisson, and Rafnar Tyyrsson.”

  “All men?” Aefric asked, surprised.

  “Women knights are rare in Malimfar,” Ser Yrsa said. “Though they do have the Order of the Shield Maiden, which admits only women.”

  “All four are young, with no visible scars,” Ser Calder continued. “All four have purchased horses and have been heard to talk about hunting.”

  “Which is what I’d do,” Ser Beornric said, “if I was stuck someplace waiting for orders. Gives me an excuse to ride about. See the land. The people.”

  “The defenses,” Ser Yrsa added.

  “Exactly,” Ser Calder said. “They’re being quite open about their presence and activities, but I don’t believe for a moment that they’re innocent.”

  “What kind of horses did they buy?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “Decent riding horses,” Ser Calder said. “But not battle-trained, and certainly not warhorses. Bought them without haggling, but they did take their time in choosing.”

  “Where’d they get them?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “The new place,” Ser Calder said. “Sunrise Stables. Get their horses from Fyretti.”

  “Well,” Aefric said, “do your best to keep an eye on them. But remember. So long as they behave themselves, we can’t take action about these knights until we hear from his majesty.”

  “Any idea why his majesty is coming?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Beyond the obvious?” Ser Yrsa asked. “Two foreign princesses came here. Not to Armityr. That’ll start rumors that they’re seeking marriage with our eligible young duke, even though it might be cover for something else.”

  “Like what?” Aefric asked. “Beyond Malimfar wanting revenge.”

  “That’s enough for me,” Ser Beornric said. “Perhaps we can’t arrest the knights, but we can at least invite them to stay here in the castle, where we can be sure they aren’t rumormongering in town.”

  “We can’t,” Aefric said. “The king’s message said to take no action regarding Malimfar. That might count.”

  “Surely, your grace,” Ser Calder started, but Aefric cut him off.

  “Yes, Ser Calder? Would you care to tell me how I should interpret the instructions of my liege lord?”

  Ser Calder clamped his mouth tight and turned to glare out over the lake.

  “Perhaps, Ser Calder,” Aefric said, “you should find out what those knights are up to this evening. It would be good to know if they gamble, whore or drink excessively.”

  “Of course, your grace,” Ser Calder said, voice tight. “Shall I be about that at once?”

  “Have you other news I should be made aware of first?”

  “No, your grace.”

  “Then I shall leave it to your discretion. You may remain if you can keep your temper. If not, then you have my leave to depart.”

  Ser Calder drew a long, slow breath.

  “I think, perhaps, the day has been overlong for me,” Ser Calder said. “I am not so young as I once was. So I shall take my leave with thanks, your grace, and see about the conduct of those knights before I retire for the evening.”

  “Thank you, Ser Calder,” Aefric said. “I do appreciate your service.”

  Ser Calder visibly checked himself from saying something, but nodded, bowed, and departed.

  “Perhaps you should have mercy on him,” Ser Beornric said softly. “He’s older than both of us put together, and he’s a proud, accomplished man.”

  “That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” Ser Yrsa said, surprising Aefric. But he nodded.

  “He’s been castellan here for a long time,” Aefric said. “He’s well known and well respected. And he’s been testing me. Trying to put his judgment before mine.”

  “I suspect,” Ser Yrsa said, “he feels he was passed over for the duchy.”

  “Arrogant of him,” Ser Beornric said. “He’s hardly of noble birth. Son of a tara farmer, I believe.”

  “That’s right,” Ser Yrsa said. “And my father was a rigger. Calder and I weren’t born and bred for knighthood. We were knighted for excellence in battle. Mine was during the Sea Devils War some twenty summers past. Calder’s was during a border struggle with Merrek, even further back. Maybe fifty summers or so.”

  Ser Beornric looked closely at Ser Yrsa’s guarded expression.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know,” Ser Yrsa said in the gentlest tone Aefric had ever heard from her. “You may be a fifth generation knight, Beornric, but you’ve never once lorded your family history or noble relations over anyone that I’ve seen.”

  “Once you’re a knight, you’re a knight,” Ser Beornric said. “It’s what you do that matters, not what your parents did.” He turned back to Aefric. “Ranking nobility, though, that’s a different animal.”

  “And yet,” Aefric said, “King Colm did give the duchy to a man with no nobility in his family history. Ser Calder, at least, was born here in Deepwater. And he was already a castellan here at Water’s End while I was still a street rat in Sartis.”

  “Which is my point,” Ser Yrsa said. “Further, Arinda left a lot of the running of the duchy to Calder, so he had the experience. And he’s served Armyr and Deepwater well for a long time.”

  “Well,” Ser Beornric said, “let’s not overlook the service our duke here did both Deepwater and Armyr during the wars.”

  “Certainly not,” Ser Yrsa said. “Apart from the grumbling of a few old noble families, I don’t think anyone disputes the reasons King Colm made his decision. But I think it still rankles Calder, who’d practically been rehearsing for the job for decades.”

  “Which brings up a supporting point,” Ser Beornric said, turning back to Aefric. “Not only did you get the title he wanted, but by actually ruling you’ve taken away a lot of what he used to do.” He shook his head. “Might be why he’s so eager to see you go to Netar.”

  “And part of the reason I can’t yet,” Aefric said. “Not if I’m going to keep him on as castellan. His place needs to be made clear to him.”

  “There’s Kivash,” Ser Yrsa said suddenly. When Aefric looked the question at her, she continued. “You’ll need a castellan down there as well. No reason it couldn’t be him. And as Kivash is a potential source of conflict, he might get to taste battle again.”

  “He’d take it as an insult,” Ser Beornric said.

  The food arrived.

  Fresh salmon, fire roasted with herbs and some kind of ground nut, served with sweet corn and spicy ground tara, along with honeyed oat bread.

  Dajen had even anticipated Aefric’s desires on the beverage front. Beer, from a brewery here in Water’s End. A crisp but hearty brew that went well with the salmon, and almost seemed to echo the nuts in the dish.

  As Aefric tucked in greedily, Ser Beornric continued.

  “You send Calder to Kivash, you’re telling him you don’t trust him to do his job. Especially if you send him before you restore him the right to bear arms in your presence.”

  “Not just him,” Ser Yrsa said, sighing as she conceded the point. “You’d be telling all of Water’s End the same thing. Maybe all of Deepwater.” She thumped one fist on the table. “Elbar’s Blood, I thought I had it.”

  “He’ll fall in line,” Aefric said, “or I’ll give him some land to retire on and find myself another castellan.”

  Sers Beornric and Yrsa discussed other possibilities for Ser Calder while Aefric ate, but none of them sounded likely.

  “All right,” Aefric said, once his plate was empty. “Enough of Ser Calder, for now. What other news?”

  “I was hoping you’d have some for us,” Ser Beornric said.

  “As was I,” Ser Yrsa said. “But I also wanted you to know that Princess Xenia did not stop in Behal, but kept moving.”

  “Really,” Aefric said in wonder. “But she wouldn’t find another castle before dark, much less a titled noble to host her.”

  “Indications are that they may ride through the night,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “Is this a change from their arrival?” Aefric asked.

  “No,” Ser Yrsa said, “but they didn’t send word ahead of themselves, either. I think they’d wanted to surprise you, so they’d avoided the normal stops for a traveling princess.”

  “Why, though?” Aefric asked. “Why was surprising me important?”

  “A mystery,” Ser Yrsa said with a sigh, and hefted her own beer. Her third, while Aefric and Ser Beornric were both on their second. “Much as her purpose here.”

  “It is odd that she left without ever saying why she came,” Ser Beornric said. “I know we’re all assuming interest in marriage, but we don’t know that.”

  “Testing the waters?” Aefric asked. “Finding out whether or not I’d be suitable first?”

  “Or strategy,” Ser Yrsa said. “Caiperas and Malimfar both spy on each other, of course, so she likely knew Princess Astrid was coming. Princess Xenia might only have come to counter, and to ensure that Princess Astrid could not pay court to you without Caiperas having some say.”

  Aefric shook his head. “You sound as though you think she’d marry me if she had to, to keep me from marrying Princess Astrid.”

  “She probably would,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “Your grace,” Dajen said from the door to the sitting room. “Sers Vria and Micham are here, requesting a moment of your time.”

  “Excellent,” Aefric said, smiling. “Tell them I’ll be right in.” To Sers Yrsa and Beornric, he added, “I may just have some news for you after all. Wait here for me.”

  When Aefric entered his public floor sitting room, he almost didn’t recognize Sers Micham and Vria, who stood waiting for him near the couches.

  They looked fantastic. Aefric had never seen either of them dressed up before, but he resolved to give them an excuse to dress up again sometime soon. A ball, perhaps.

  Ser Micham wore a burgundy silk tunic, dark, mustard hose, and low, soft boots turned down at the cuff.

  Ser Vria wore her orange hair down, over a dark blue, velvet gown that was surprisingly low-cut, and slippers that added a little sparkle to every step.

  Aefric looked them up and down. Shook his head.

  “I really must have the two of you dress up more often,” he said. “There’d be no risk of anyone attacking me. They’d be too busy staring at the pair of you.”

  “Your grace is too kind,” Ser Vria said, pleasure evident in her golden eyes, as both bowed to accept the compliment.

  Ser Micham looked pointedly at Dajen. Aefric waved off the concern. There might be spies in his court, but he couldn’t believe Dajen was one of them.

  Ser Vria pulled the pendant out of her décolletage and handed it to Aefric.

  “What did you learn?” he asked, looking over the bronze, to see if he noticed anything different in the sextant shape of the pendant.

  Ser Micham leaned in and angled it. Aefric spotted the tiny spark of a diamond.

  He looked closer, while Ser Vria spoke.

  “The sextant was cast with a small gap in the bronze, which had been filled with something else, and covered over with more bronze. We had master jewel smith, Tayor Sizen, clear away the added bronze to see what lay underneath.”

  Ser Micham picked up from there.

  “Inset into the bronze, it turned out, was a tiny gold vessel fitted with diamonds. Handmade, according to the master, who marveled that anyone had commissioned such painstaking work only to cover it up. He was only too happy to have freed the diamonds and gold again.”

  “Impressive,” Aefric said. He could see the gold and at least a couple of the diamonds now. The whole piece was so small. It must have taken a great deal of time and attention to put it together.

  Exactly the sort of thing that could easily have held the illusion and passage spells Aefric had found.

  “Even more impressive,” Ser Vria added, “when your grace considers that the tiny diamond chips form a shape.”

  “They do?” Aefric asked, squinting. He could see diamonds, but not a shape.

  “It can only be seen under the highest grade jeweler’s loop,” Ser Vria said. “A capital N.”

  Nelazzi.

  Aefric smiled. “Thank you both. You’ve just answered two very important questions for me.”

  “Happy to do so, your grace,” Ser Micham said.

  “I hope your grace gives us more such assignments in the future,” Ser Vria said with a smile. “That was fun. Pretending like that.”

  “I may just,” Aefric said. “But for tonight, the two of you are now actually dismissed. Go relax and have fun.”

  As they left to do so, Aefric took the pendant back out onto the balcony with him. After Dajen brought them another round of beer, as well as a slice each of raspberry tart, Aefric explained to Sers Beornric and Yrsa what he’d learned about the pendant, and what Sers Vria and Micham had just discovered.

  “Tremendous,” Ser Beornric said, thumping the table with his fist. “This might be—”

  “It might,” Aefric said. “But we need to keep it to ourselves for now.”

  “You’re worried about spies?” Ser Yrsa asked. She frowned, but nodded. “There shouldn’t be any within the castle itself, but … better safe than sorry.”

  “Right,” Aefric said. “Still. Between this and whatever Karbin learns in Ajenmoor, we might soon be able to strike a meaningful blow against the pirate queen herself.”

  “I hate to say this,” Ser Yrsa said, “but now might not be the time.”

  Aefric frowned around a bite of tart that had tasted perfect. Right until she said that.

  “Please, your grace,” she said. “Hear me out. We are rebuilding our coastline. We lost so many small villages and towns to the sea devils during the wars. Right now it’s in the best interests of pirates to let us rebuild, so there’ll be something worth raiding later on.”

  “Ah,” Aefric said. “But if we strike at Nelazzi now…”

  “Then we must be sure to crush her and her whole organization in a single swift blow.” Ser Yrsa chopped her hand for emphasis. “To do otherwise, while we’re vulnerable, is to risk retribution that could destroy everything we’ve started rebuilding.”

  “She has a point,” Ser Beornric said sourly. “The wars have left us weak on the seas, and all but unprotected along most of our long coastline. We shouldn’t go after Nelazzi. Not as things stand.”

  Aefric frowned. Flared his nostrils in a deep breath.

  But then he had an idea.

  “Delay might be a smarter way to go, at that,” Aefric said slowly. “If I have time with that pendant, I might be able to work through its spells. Learn more about the magic of the caster behind those spells. Because when the time comes, we will face that caster. Any edge I can get might make the difference.”

  He made a connection then, frowned, and shook his head.

  “Nelazzi can’t be behind the stone men in the Dragonscar.”

  “Why not?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Because I’d know the work of that wizard again anywhere, and that wizard didn’t enchant this pendant. So someone else must have. And neither of those spellcasters is Gwawl.”

  “So?” Ser Yrsa asked. “The Dragonscar could be commission work.”

  “Powerful magic-users tend to be territorial. Even Karbin. He’d never object to any magic I work for myself, but since I named him my ducal wizard, any magic done for the duchy needs to go through him. If I commissioned someone else to, say, cast wards on the Dragonscar, he’d take it as a personal affront.”

  “But Nelazzi’s a pirate,” Ser Beornric said. “For all she gets called a pirate queen, she’s still not a noble, and her wizards are just hirelings.”