“That’s correct, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said with a smile wide enough to tug at that long scar of hers.

  “And yet not only did you get here before me,” Aefric said, “but you found time to grab your maces en route?”

  “I felt naked without them, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said with a shrug.

  “You’re not going to tell me how you did that, are you?”

  “I will if your grace orders me, of course,” Ser Yrsa said. “But I should point out that your grace only benefits by having a general who knows the ways of his castle even better than he does.”

  Aefric chuckled and took his seat at the table, gesturing for everyone else to do the same.

  “All right,” Aefric said, looking back and forth between Karbin and Ser Yrsa. “Which of you would like to go first?”

  “Lord Wizard?” Ser Yrsa offered.

  “Just Karbin is fine,” Karbin said. “Especially among a group like this.”

  After she nodded acknowledgment, he turned to Aefric.

  “I mentioned that I’d gotten a couple of leads I could follow up on that wouldn’t take me into Malimfar or Redport,” Karbin said.

  “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like where this is going?” Aefric asked, one eyebrow high.

  “Likely,” Karbin said with a lopsided smile, “because you know me. Or at the very least, process of elimination tells you where I went, since it wasn’t back to Ajenmoor.”

  “Kefthal.”

  “Specifically,” Karbin said, “Drake’s Landing, the Kefthali port I’d pointed out earlier as part of the normal route for both those slavers and smugglers. Have any of you been there?”

  Aefric shook his head, as did the others.

  “I’d been there once before,” Karbin said. “Tracking down legends of this.” He pulled the obsidian rod from his belt and laid it on the table. “It was in Drake’s Landing that I’d learned of Sulkrekeep, and the haunted ruins beneath it.”

  “So you knew your way around already?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “Yes and no,” Karbin said. “I knew already where a certain knot of scholars hides there, but they were no good to me on this trip. I had to make other inroads, around the docks.”

  “You weren’t gone all that long,” Ser Beornric said. “Couple of days.”

  “Not the first time I’ve done something like this,” Karbin said with a downright roguish grin. “Aefric and I have hunted slavers more than once.”

  “What did you learn there?” Aefric asked.

  “Mainly,” Karbin said, “I eliminated Redport, on the topic of slavery. The only times the Gull’s Bride did more in Redport than purchase supplies, they smuggled in illegal cargo. But not living cargo. No slaves. Just contraband such as Kefthali leather and the like.”

  “That’s an odd turn of phrase,” Aefric said. “Not living cargo. Did you choose those words?”

  “I was quoting from my source,” Karbin said. “An officious little weasel who gets a taste of everything that moves through Drake’s Landing.”

  “How did you get information out of him?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “That part was simple enough, if the most time consuming aspect of my trip to Drake’s Landing,” Karbin said with a wry smile. “Men like him always have guilty secrets. I found out what his was, and threatened to put the word out about it, if he didn’t tell me everything I wanted to know.”

  “What was the secret?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Believe me,” Karbin said with a grimace. “You don’t want to know. In fact.” He drew a breath, as though to get past the taste of something. “I’ll put it this way. If I didn’t think we might need more information out of him later, I’d’ve killed him for it.”

  “Fair enough,” Aefric said. “Though in Kefthal I imagine he needs to hide it because of identities involved, rather than the acts themselves.”

  “Exactly,” Karbin said. “And it was he who specified ‘not living cargo.’ Why?” Then Karbin blinked with realization. “Undead workers?”

  “Stands to reason,” Aefric said. “Plenty of necromancy in Kefthal, and plenty of people who need a lot of work done after the wars. Often in places where the populace has been decimated.”

  “Like Silverlake,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “Like all of us, really,” Aefric said with a sigh. “But yes, I was thinking of Silverlake. Beornric and I saw the some of the damage wrought by the dybbungstad and their demon twins. I could imagine a leader of … questionable morality taking advantage of undead help in the rebuilding process.”

  “Countess Briluufa?” Ser Yrsa asked. “Or do you think Duke Wylyn could be involved?”

  “I hope not Wylyn,” Aefric said, shaking his head. “For that matter, I hope not Briluufa, either. I mean, this is speculation.” He sighed. “But I think it’s speculation I might need to inform Duke Wylyn about. He’s in Redport doing his own investigations right now.”

  “Do you think it’s wise?” Ser Yrsa asked. “We don’t have more than speculation about this, based on an odd turn of phrase.”

  “We know the slavers have sold contraband in Redport,” Aefric said. “We’re sure of that much, so I should inform Wylyn. And while I’m at it, I’ll tell him the turn of phrase and what it might mean.”

  “I can tell you Calder will disagree,” Ser Yrsa said. “He’ll say we shouldn’t pass on anything but known facts.”

  “I’ll handle it if you like, Aefric,” Karbin said. “I’m the one who went to Kefthal. I can answer his questions, and help him understand what I found out.”

  “That’s probably the way to go,” Aefric said. “Hate to ask you to do it, but—”

  “I’ll leave in the morning, your grace,” Karbin said with a teasing smile. “But before we move on, we should consider the other information I confirmed there in Kefthal.”

  “Wulfport?” Aefric asked, hoping he was wrong.

  “Wulfport,” Karbin said. “My contact was upset that sometimes…” Karbin grimaced and forced himself to continue. “That sometimes the ‘choicest’ slaves had been sold in Wulfport before the Gull’s Bride docked in Kefthal.”

  “That is damning,” Aefric said. “Before you leave for Redport—”

  “I’ll prepare the report for his majesty,” Karbin said. “Of course.”

  “Anything else on that front?” Aefric asked.

  “No,” Karbin said, turning to Ser Yrsa. “I believe you have something though?”

  “Yes,” Ser Yrsa said. “Earlier today our scouts spotted movement along the northern ridge of the Dragonscar. Most likely Silverlake scouts.”

  “And this is near the caves with the gold, I take it?” Aefric asked.

  “Yes,” Ser Yrsa said. “They were clearly checking the Dragonscar around those caves.”

  “Did they enter the Dragonscar?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “No,” Ser Yrsa said. “They stuck to the ridge, though they were clearly looking across at the southern ridge, and down into the Dragonscar.”

  “So far as we know,” Aefric asked, “did they learn anything?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Ser Yrsa said with a feral smile. “Our scouts were already in place, so the Silverlake scouts had no movement to key on. And Ge’rek and Po’rek have been quiet as stalking cats, down in those mines. Even our own scouts haven’t seen or heard from them, and they know what to look and listen for.”

  “You know what this means though,” Ser Beornric said to Aefric. “Duke Wylyn’s involved. There can be no doubt now. First you confirm that it was his wizard who cast those spells we encountered, including the stone men. And now, just after we visit, he sends scouts down the check on it.”

  “Damn,” Aefric said. “I really wanted to like him.” He sighed and shook his head. “All right. Same thing here. We need all this prepared into reports, with copies for his majesty. I want all the evidence together before I say word one.”

  Ser Yrsa snorted. “That, at least, Calder would agree with.”

  “All right,” Aefric said. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes,” Ser Yrsa said. “The Malimfari knights have returned to their rented rooms from their hunt. They took down no game.”

  “None?” Aefric asked. Then he thumped his fist on the table. “Elbar’s Blood I wish we could talk to them.”

  “Do you?” Ser Beornric asked. “It seems to me that they’re probably under orders to avoid getting arrested or giving offense. Hunting is expected for knights, and pretty innocuous. And they avoided killing anything, thus not even letting us claim they were poaching on the duke’s ‘private preserve’ or something.”

  “That’s my point,” Aefric said. “I think they’re here on a mission. That they’re biding time until…”

  He turned to Ser Yrsa. “The king and queen. How to they usually come to Water’s End?”

  “By road, of course,” Ser Yrsa said. “Makes a better entrance, and a better chance for them to be seen by … their people…”

  She turned to Aefric. “You think those knights are here to kill our king?”

  “I think they might be. And there’s nothing harder to stop than an assassin willing to die in the course of his business.”

  “But what we can do about it?” Ser Beornric asked. “We can’t arrest, or even get close to those knights, by order of the king. And we can’t tell their majesties to come by water because we fear the possibility of assassins.”

  “The answer is obvious,” Aefric said. “Come dawn, I and the knights and soldiers of my personal guard will sail for Behal. Then we’ll take to the road, meet their majesties, and escort them to Water’s End personally.”

  “Smart,” Karbin said. “Puts you and your best on the firing line, if there’s a problem. And if not, it just looks like a grand gesture of respect for your liege.”

  “What about the Malimfari knights?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “I want those knights watched like the enemies they may be.” Aefric thumped the table again. “And I want a squad kept nearby and ready. And if those knights do try anything, I want them taken down. Alive, if possible. Either way, I’ll answer to his majesty for the decision.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said, offering the battlefield salute, which Ser Beornric offered as well.

  “Karbin,” Aefric said, frowning. “One more thing. After you get back from Silverlake — and don’t let Wylyn lure you into his investigation — I want you to check around in Water’s End and Behal. Just in case those knights are a decoy.”

  Karbin chuckled. “You remembered the first rule of illusions.”

  “First lesson I ever learned from you,” Aefric said with a wistful smile. “Best illusions are the ones that don’t need magic. Just distraction, to put your enemy’s attention where you want it.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Karbin said. “If Malimfar has anything more than knights lying in wait, I’ll find them.”

  “Good,” Aefric said, then another thought occurred to him. “Have we been tracking Princess Xenia’s movements?”

  “Not since she left Deepwater two days ago,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “That was fast,” Ser Beornric said.

  “They seem to be in a hurry,” Ser Yrsa agreed.

  “Well, they’re somewhere in the king’s lands, anyway, so not our problem.” Aefric stood. “And now, I’d better get a good night’s sleep. Going to be a few days.”

  When Zoleen ascended the stairs to Aefric’s private sitting room, she was smiling. She wore the same dress from dinner, but now she wore her copper hair down in long waves, playing past her shoulders.

  “I see your grace didn’t keep me waiting tonight,” she said, teasing, while Dajen brought them glasses of a light, sweet sharabi that tasted like raspberries and was the green of summer grass. Very good for driving away the last bitterness from the nysta tea.

  “Yes,” Aefric said, smiling, and gesturing to the seat beside him on the maroon couch, “well, some would say I’ve kept you waiting … four days since our last night together?”

  “I would say it,” Zoleen said, with a playful toss of her hair, “except that I am above such petty complaints.”

  “Good of you,” Aefric said, and raised his sharabi in toast. “To savoring the moments of life.”

  After they drank, Zoleen cocked an eyebrow at Aefric.

  “One could suggest,” she said, “that such a toast could be construed as melancholy. As though such moments worth savoring were few and far between.”

  “I suppose,” Aefric said, “one could read such a meaning into the words. Had one the desire.” He touched his chest. “But I, myself, hope merely to express the pleasure I take in your company tonight.”

  “So you say,” Zoleen said with a lopsided smile. “And yet, I suspect that your grace might be concealing bad news.”

  “Well,” Aefric conceded. “I don’t know about bad news. But I do have to leave in the morning.”

  “Again?” Zoleen asked, disbelief as plain on her face as in her voice. “I do hope the common thread here is not my company.”

  “Certainly not,” Aefric said with a chuckle, then reached out and squeezed her hand, to emphasize his sincerity.

  She hesitated only a moment before returning the squeeze and releasing his hand.

  Zoleen sipped her sharabi, and gazed thoughtfully at him.

  “May I at least ask why your grace must leave in the morning?”

  “I will be going to meet their majesties on the road, and escort them myself here to Water’s End.”

  Zoleen frowned. Whatever answer she was expecting, that wasn’t it. But then she smiled, slowly.

  “In that case, might I accompany your grace on this journey?”

  “No,” Aefric said. “I’m not traveling with any courtiers or entourage. Only the knights and soldiers of my personal guard.”

  Zoleen considered that through another sip of sharabi.

  “Your grace expects trouble from a vassal?” she asked.

  “Nothing like that,” Aefric said, but before he could say more, she spoke up.

  “But your grace does expect trouble,” she said with a nod. “Trouble that might need his spells, or his knights. Or at least a few more soldiers than the royal entourage has already.”

  “Maybe I just want to escort their majesties here without making their entourage so large it becomes unwieldy.”

  “Many would believe that,” Zoleen conceded. “But I myself do not. If that were your grace’s sole intention, he would have left in time to meet them at the east end of Kerrik Forest.”

  She shook her head, while keeping her eyes on him. “Tomorrow morning is too late for that. Which suggests that your grace has learned something concerning. Something that makes him believe their majesties might need his aid.”

  “An interesting notion,” Aefric said. “But surely you don’t expect me to either confirm it or deny it.”

  “Why not?” She snorted. “Because I’m a Fyrenn? Because my family’s name is all but synonymous with intrigue?”

  “You must admit,” Aefric said, “that certainly is your family’s reputation.”

  “My family’s reputation, yes,” Zoleen said, and now her sapphire eyes blazed. “And Ashling’s reputation, certainly. But what of my reputation? What intrigues am I guilty of, your grace?”

  Aefric sighed. “None that I have heard of. And yet…”

  “And yet,” Zoleen finished for him, “that might only mean that I am the cleverest player of all. Is that it, your grace? Am I here because you keep your friends close and your enemies … naked?”

  Aefric hung his head. “No, Zoleen. Not at all.”

  “Certainly your grace knows that I have heard about Baroness Montess Ol’Nastath of Riverbreak. How she came to your grace for the noble privilege, and within days her son and heir was arrested and executed for treason. Not to mention that Montess herself, and her husband, the baron, were exiled for aiding and abetting this treason. Or am I to believe the one was unrelated to the others?”

  “I will confess,” Aefric said, “that when I was with Baroness Montess, I needed information about a knight-adviser her husband kept. But I didn’t dream that her son had been guilty of treason. Much less that she and Baron Karmody knew of that treason.”

  “But you did have a motive beyond company and pleasure,” Zoleen pressed. “When you took Baroness Montess to your bed.”

  “I did,” Aefric admitted. “Although that has not been true for anyone else. Not for Byrhta Ol’Caran. Not any of the noblewomen of my court here and at Behal. And certainly not for you.”

  “It’s easy for me to believe that about the others,” Zoleen said frankly. “Especially the petty nobles. The lers. Their relatives. And surely no man living would refuse a chance to lie with Byrhta Ol’Caran. But how am I to believe this about myself, your grace?”

  She shook her head. “How am I to believe that your grace takes me to his bed, and not just a Fyrenn?”

  “Because I like you, Zoleen,” Aefric said. “I enjoy your company and conversation. I laughed more with you a few nights ago than I had in aetts.”

  Zoleen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Truly, your grace?”

  “Truly,” Aefric said. “In fact, there was something I planned to tell you tonight. But now, well, I worry that you’ll take it as some kind of ruse to set you at ease.”

  “Tell me what, your grace?”

  “That I want you to call me Aefric.”

  Zoleen’s eyes widened. Her mouth formed an “O” and for a moment, she was speechless.

  Aefric savored that moment.

  “You mean when we’re alone?” she asked carefully.

  “Did I say that?”

  “You mean, even before the court? In the company of your knights? Even in the presence of the king? I can call you Aefric?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Aefric said.

  “Oh, Aefric,” she said, setting down her half-full glass of sharabi and throwing her arms around his neck. “You mean it?”

  “I told you,” Aefric said. “I like you, Zoleen. I enjoy your company. I enjoy talking with you. Laughing with you.” He stroked her cheek, and said softly. “And other things as well.”