“Yes, your majesty,” Kentigern said, and then got up to fulfill the order immediately.

  King Colm turned back to Aefric.

  “Tell me more about these smugglers and slavers.”

  And so Aefric told him the rest. The strange events in Ajenmoor. The possible ties in Lachedran. The more certain ties in Redport, and the definite ties in Wulfport and Kefthal. Everything he knew, everything he suspected, leaving out for the moment only those details that pointed to Nelazzi.

  “Malimfar is buying slaves?” King Colm said, his voice quiet and dangerous.

  “Someone in Malimfar is buying slaves,” Ser Calder said. “We don’t know for certain that the nobles or royal family are involved.”

  “Nor do we know that they aren’t,” King Colm said, turning back to Aefric. “How certain are you of this?”

  “As certain as I can be,” Aefric said, “given that your majesty ordered me not to investigate Malimfar.”

  “Did I?” King Colm asked.

  “Your majesty was quite clear that I was to take no actions regarding Malimfar.”

  “That sounds more like me,” King Colm said, shaking his head. “I was thinking mostly of their crown princess. But I am pleased to know your grace erred on the side of caution. I take it this is also why you’d done nothing more with those Malimfari knights than watch them?”

  “That’s correct, your majesty.”

  King Colm nodded. “Anything else I should be made aware of?”

  “We have compelling reason to believe that Nelazzi stands behind both the slavers and the smugglers,” Aefric said. “I would like permission to hunt her down and put an end to her.”

  “Denied,” King Colm said, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, your grace. I have no more love for pirates than you do. But war against Nelazzi is like to be as great a task as war against Malimfar. And I cannot have one of my most important vassals fighting on two fronts.”

  “But when the Malimfar question is settled?” Aefric asked.

  “Perhaps,” King Colm said. “I will promise this much. We shall revisit the topic once Malimfar is dealt with. Until then, defend against Nelazzi as you must, but do not pursue her. Not yourself, nor through your agents.”

  He leaned forward and tapped the table in front of Aefric.

  “Am I understood?”

  “You are understood, your majesty,” Aefric said, chagrined.

  “Your grace is a man of action, as I am,” King Colm said. “I know this burns at you. But you and I both have cares beyond our own need for revenge.”

  Ser Beatritz cleared her throat.

  “Something you wish to say, ser knight?” King Colm asked.

  “Only to observe that, were she present, our queen would say that your majesty pursues revenge in regard to Malimfar.”

  “And I would tell her,” King Colm said, his voice now low and dangerous, “that I will allow no one to strike at the royal family with impunity. Malimfar made the attempt. Malimfar shall pay the price.”

  “If it was Malimfar,” Ser Beatritz said softly. “Which, alas, we do not yet know for certain.”

  “And we shall find out,” King Colm said. “Soon.”

  Once the royal meeting was over, Aefric lingered on the large balcony by starlight. Not alone, though. Accompanied by Sers Beornric, Yrsa, and Calder, and joined shortly by Kentigern.

  “I’ve sent for Ser Deirdre, your grace,” Kentigern said, “and I’ve left word for Karbin to join us as soon as he arrives.”

  “Thank you,” Aefric said, and took another sip of that strong, dark beer. He was still working on his first tankard, but he was alone in this. Ser Calder was on his third, and Sers Yrsa and Beornric seemed to be competing to see who could drink more without letting it affect their work.

  Aefric wasn’t sure how much Kentigern had drunk, but he suspected the seneschal was on his second tankard.

  “I took the opportunity to speak with Li’sheneesha, as well,” Kentigern said. “She and Li’nasachal would be pleased to perform the soul test on Morgard.”

  “Did you ask Morgard if he’s willing?”

  “Yes, your grace,” Kentigern said. “Once the eldrani agreed, I asked him which he would prefer. Our investigation or a test by magic. He acceded to the test by magic. Even apologized for putting us through this.”

  “Yes,” Ser Calder said. “I spoke with the boy earlier. He truly does seem to repent some of the … misjudgments made in his younger days.”

  “Easy to say,” Ser Beornric said, “when under the noble’s arrest.”

  Aefric almost asked about that, but realized he knew the answer. Morgard had guest chambers, not a cell, but he was hardly free to move about, much less leave Water’s End.

  Dajen knocked lightly to announce himself, then stepped out onto the balcony.

  “Your grace,” he said, with only slightly less distaste in his voice than Ocheda would have had in his place, “Ser Deirdre Ol’Miri has arrived. Shall I make her wait? Or perhaps, ask her to leave her news with me?”

  “No need for that, Dajen,” Aefric said with a quirked smile. “Send her out. And bring her some beer, if she wants some.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Dajen said, not trying to hide his disappointment, which made Sers Beornric and Yrsa chuckle.

  Ser Calder, though, frowned hard enough to grind his teeth.

  Ser Deirdre sauntered onto the balcony, wry smile in place, and for once, she wasn’t wearing armor. Instead she adorned a flattering tunic of maroon silk over black hose, a dark brown leather belt with her rapier and dagger, and soft leather shoes.

  As she so often did, she dropped to her knees before Aefric. And her eyes roved approvingly over his outfit.

  “Your grace,” she said, “I have returned from Ajenmoor triumphant. I have learned a great deal on your grace’s behalf. And in so doing, as I swore on my honor, I disturbed the waters not a ripple.”

  “And this can be confirmed?” Aefric said, half in jest. Something about her manner just brought out old adventuring habits, where humor was concerned.

  “I can confirm it, your grace,” Kentigern said. “I keep in touch with friends in Ajenmoor who would notice, if Ser Deirdre caused problems in the course of her investigation. I’ve heard from two of them in the last three days, and both make it sound as though all is calm in Ajenmoor. Or at least, that the only disturbance of note since your grace’s own visit was the escape of Captain Brusi.”

  Triumph flashed in Ser Deirdre’s green eyes. Her smile widened.

  “Stand, Ser Deirdre,” Aefric said. “Join us at the table. And for Kalinda’s sake, don’t let anyone from his majesty’s party see you kneeling to me.”

  “Of course not, your grace,” Ser Deirdre said as she sat. “That would be unseemly.”

  The growl that came out of Ser Calder then reminded Aefric of the way a volcano rumbled when threatening to erupt.

  Ser Deirdre only looked amused.

  “Report, damn you,” Ser Calder barked.

  Ser Deirdre, smile still in place, gazed at Ser Calder through a long, slow blink, before turning to Aefric.

  “Is your grace ready to hear my report from Ajenmoor?” she asked innocently.

  Ser Calder thumped the table with a fist.

  “Stop taunting my castellan,” Aefric said.

  “Must I, your grace?” Ser Deirdre asked. “I have so little fun.”

  “That’s a lie,” Ser Yrsa muttered, which made Ser Deirdre chuckle.

  “Very well, your grace,” she said then, and turned to Ser Calder. “Please excuse me, good castellan, if I have given offense in my efforts to obey my duke while not letting another usurp his authority.”

  “Usurp?” Ser Calder demanded, coming to his feet. His hand reached for a sword he wasn’t wearing. “How dare you?”

  Ser Deirdre didn’t move. Not that Aefric could tell. And yet, there was a subtle shift in her posture. All the humor went out of her.

  All at once, she looked the very definition of quiet and deadly.

  Sers Beornric and Yrsa both shifted, ready to intervene if needed. Kentigern seemed to shrink in his chair, trying to stay out of the way.

  “Enough,” Aefric said, reminding them all that he could be quiet and deadly as well.

  Ser Calder shook with the effort of restraining himself from going after Ser Deirdre.

  “Your grace,” Ser Calder said through clenched teeth. “This insult cannot be borne. I will have satisfaction.”

  “I will be happy to provide it,” Ser Deirdre said softly.

  “I. Said. Enough,” Aefric said. The Brightstaff, standing beside his chair, began to glow softly from its yellow diamond. “I will not have my knights coming to blows in my own apartments.”

  “The practice grounds would suit far better,” Ser Calder growled.

  “Name the time,” Ser Deirdre said.

  “Ser Yrsa,” Aefric said.

  “Your grace,” she said, coming to her feet.

  “Escort my castellan to our morning meeting room, where he is to calm himself. See that he remains there, under guard if necessary, until I summon him. When you are confident that he will not leave that room, return.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “No guard will be necessary,” Ser Calder said. He gave Aefric a sharp bow. “Your grace.”

  He turned and left the balcony, Ser Yrsa following in his wake.

  “While we wait for Ser Yrsa to return,” Aefric said, “I would like to know why you chose the word usurp. I know that you and Ser Calder have your problems, but you must know that word is a heavy accusation.”

  “Your grace,” Ser Deirdre said, her tones as serious as Aefric had ever heard from her, “I did not choose that word to be flippant. When in the presence of your grace’s trusted advisers, Ser Calder behaves as befits his station, more or less. In their absence, however, he speaks and acts as though he considers himself the true Duke of Deepwater.”

  Aefric sat back in his chair, frowning. “And yet, he displays this behavior before you? A knight I have personally assigned more than one mission?”

  “My zest for life gives me an unconventional reputation, your grace,” Ser Deirdre said. “It also has the advantage of bringing revealing behavior out of those who live by pretense.”

  She looked past the balcony, toward the meeting room. Nodded.

  “Ser Calder is just such a man,” she said. “And, in my opinion, he represents a danger to your grace.”

  “One you wish to eliminate?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “I would eliminate all threats to his grace, if permitted,” Ser Deirdre said, casually shrugging one shoulder. “I have seen many leaders, but few worth following.” She nodded at Aefric. “Your grace, I am pleased to say, is one of the few. And I would follow him into each of the thirteen hells and the Abyss.”

  Ser Yrsa came back onto the patio then, followed by Dajen with more beer.

  “Calder will be some time in calming,” Ser Yrsa said, as she took her seat. “He’s insisting on a duel for his honor.”

  “I’d be happy to fight it, your grace,” Ser Deirdre said.

  “Tell Ser Yrsa why,” Aefric said, then gestured for Dajen to stay. “I want you to hear this too.”

  Ser Deirdre laid out her accusation against Ser Calder in clear terms.

  “Opinions?” Aefric asked.

  “I don’t want to believe that’s true,” Ser Yrsa said. “But I can’t deny it’s possible. It certainly seems to fit him.”

  “I agree,” Ser Beornric said with a sigh.

  “I can surreptitiously check with our guards and soldiers,” Ser Yrsa said, frowning. “Get their gauge of his behavior. If your grace wishes.”

  “I do,” Aefric, said, then looked at Kentigern.

  “I’m not sure I’d go so far as to use the word usurp,” Kentigern said, slowly. “But I cannot deny that he’s been more … aggressive in his role as castellan since Duchess Arinda died.”

  Aefric turned to Dajen. “I would like you to survey the castle staff. No leading questions. Just get their impressions of Ser Calder’s behavior, and report back to me.”

  “I shall see to it at once, your grace,” Dajen said. “I should have an answer before noon tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Aefric said. “Thank you.”

  Dajen took that as his dismissal, and left.

  Aefric turned to Kentigern.

  “In the morning I want you to meet with Elkari about Ser Calder. Go over the books and records. See if there’s anything there I need to know about.”

  “Should I look for anything specific?”

  “Money,” Ser Deirdre suggested. “And land. In the wake of the Godswalk Wars, a good deal of both may have gone missing. Perhaps some of it found its way into his pockets.”

  “Your grace’s ‘lost lers?’” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Disturbing notion,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “Let us not jump to conclusions,” Aefric said. “We don’t know that he’s guilty of anything beyond an attitude problem.”

  “Attitude is the beginning of a great many crimes,” Ser Deirdre said.

  “Which is why we’re checking,” Aefric said. “Not on the assumption of guilt. But to determine guilt or innocence.”

  “I’ll meet with Elkari after the morning meeting,” Kentigern said. “And between us we have enough assistants to finish the task … perhaps by evening?”

  “Good,” Aefric said. “Officially, this is part of that ‘lost lers’ investigation, coming from the angle of land and money, instead of family names. No one is to know of any accusations against Ser Calder until I say so.”

  “What about his majesty?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “His majesty noticed that I’d disarmed Ser Calder,” Aefric said. “So he’ll already suspect. But if anyone tells him, it will be me.”

  That brought a general round of agreement.

  Pakel, the heavyset night servant, knocked gently and stepped out onto the balcony.

  “Your grace,” he said, “your ducal wizard has arrived.”

  Good. Perhaps Aefric could finally get his reports.

  If he was lucky, he might even get to sleep that night.

  Karbin looked tired when he joined Aefric and the others on the wide, public-level balcony that evening. And he gratefully sank onto a comfortable, greenwood chair and gulped down his first tankard of that rich, dark beer, while the others caught him up about the accusations made by Ser Deirdre.

  Once that was finished, Karbin rolled his lips around in thought, then nodded.

  “You’ve noticed something?” Aefric asked.

  “Small things only,” Karbin said. “Nothing I would have considered worth mentioning. Little details of behavior I’d written off to his resenting the degree of trust and faith you show me.”

  “I’ve known you most of my life,” Aefric said, incredulously. “And I’ve fought beside you more times than I care to count.”

  “But like you,” Karbin said, “I am not born to nobility. Most court wizards are.”

  “He’s right,” Ser Beornric said. “The first offspring inherits, but after that, any who show potential get tested for talent at wizardry, in hope of gaining the family influence in another court.”

  “Not that many show the aptitude,” Ser Deirdre said, philosophically.

  “Regardless,” Aefric said. “Before this business with Ser Calder came to a head, I believe you were ready to report, Ser Deirdre?”

  “I was and I am, your grace,” Ser Deirdre said with a smile.

  She cleared her throat. Took a long pull from her beer, then set her tankard down heavily. She rubbed her hands together.

  “My mission was to investigate all questions surrounding the shipment of textiles that Morgard arranged to fill the hold of the Arcturus, left empty by some problem with their expected shipment of pipe weed. To learn what I could about the missing shipment, the Arcturus, and everything else related, without making waves in the process.”

  She paused there, as though seeking confirmation, so Aefric nodded.

  “Morgard Ol’Nara supplied the ship’s name before I left Water’s End, and I made my way to Ajenmoor by stealth, in the hold of a fishing vessel whose captain owed me a favor.”

  Ser Beornric opened his mouth as though to ask about that, but changed his mind and clamped his mouth shut.

  “I first investigated the Arcturus herself. In going through the harbormaster’s reports—”

  “The harbormaster gave you access to his reports?” Kentigern asked, shocked.

  “If silence can be regarded as consent,” Ser Deirdre said with a twinkle in her eye, “then he consented. Though I did not do him the honor of asking. After all, I would have had to explain my curiosity, and word would have gotten around about who I was, what I was doing, and why, all of which would have violated my orders.”

  Aefric tried to fight down his smile and lost. “Do go on, Ser Deirdre.”

  “Of course, your grace,” she said, appearing to enjoy his smile. “As I was saying, according to the harbormaster’s reports, the Arcturus had not docked at Ajenmoor at any time in the five years prior to its recent visit.”

  “Five years?” Aefric said.

  “At least, your grace,” Ser Deirdre said. “Though it may have been longer. I was required at that point to cut short that branch of my investigation.”

  “Pity,” Ser Yrsa said. “I would have liked to hear what the harbormaster’s office had to say about that pipe weed.”

  Ser Deirdre frowned. “General Yrsa, did I say I learned nothing about pipe weed?”

  “But if you had to cut short your time at the harbormaster’s office...”

  “The order in which I report my information to his grace is not the order in which I discovered it, but the order that makes the story clear.”

  Ser Yrsa bowed her head for Ser Deirdre to continue.

  “As I was saying,” Ser Deirdre said, turning back to Aefric. “The Arcturus’ visit to Ajenmoor was the exception, not the rule. Through my investigations of those taverns favored by sailors and dockworkers, I learned that—”