No knocks. No cries for his attention.

  Alas, though, this moment of peace couldn’t last. If he wanted to read Byrhta’s letter, he needed to do so quickly. Before chaos intruded once more.

  Aefric took up the letter from the large, calinwood desk in the center of the room. Inhaled the spicy, exotic scent of Byrhta’s perfume. Took the letter with him over to the navy blue couch beneath the huge tapestry map of Deepwater, and eased back into comfort.

  He broke the blue wax of the harp seal, and opened the letter.

  My sweet Aefric,

  I should be at Water’s End with you right now. Perhaps in your arms. Or, if you are reading this late at night, perhaps in your bed.

  Oh, that I could be there in the warmth of your embrace.

  Alas, though, it seems the fates conspire against me. Vercy and I had made our plans for the trip. I’d briefed our castellan about everything needing care during our absence. Vercy had even assembled a series of reports to show you how well her future barony was thriving.

  Poor dear. She seems even more frustrated at having to cancel our trip than I am. If that’s possible.

  I swear, Aefric, we were all but ready to board our ship when suddenly Ler Flizan Ol’Orvash came marching in with his cronies and

  Forgive me, Aefric. I won’t bog you down with baronial business while writing as your frustrated lover. Suffice to say that the ler has … abused an established baronial policy intended to maintain equity among the lers.

  And now, instead of sailing to Water’s End, spending time with you, bragging about you to their majesties, and oh, so much more besides…

  Instead of all these joys, Vercy and I must remain here. At Karmakhall. Spending days in meetings with dull lers, reviewing matters that we’d already settled and agreed to.

  Honestly. I may need to see that policy amended, to avoid this sort of abuse in the future. It isn’t as though Ler Flizan will gain anything by this nonsense of his. If anything, he’s creating ill will with both myself and Vercy, and that can only cost him in the long run.

  Not everything we do is subject to that policy, after all, and

  Forgive me, Aefric. I’ve started ranting again.

  It’s just…

  It’s bad enough that I’m here in Riverbreak when I thought I would be there with you, at Water’s End. But I know already that these lers will add insult to the injury they’ve done my heart. I know well that they’ll try to wheedle and cajole — perhaps even lie — in their efforts to gain small edges over each other, or over their liege.

  Even now they underestimate me, and oh, how I will make them see the error of their ways.

  Perhaps I am too angry to write this letter. Believe it or not, Aefric, when I sat down, I intended only to describe exactly what I want to do with you the next time we’re alone. In such detail that you might almost feel my touch.

  Perhaps, if I did it right, my words alone would be enough to bring you to your fulfillment.

  I like that idea.

  But it seems that Ler Flizan has ruined even that for me.

  Please forgive me my absence, sweet Aefric. And I hope that none of the eager noblewomen of your court are displacing me in your affections.

  I am pleased, at least, to know that you are well. Especially after such troubles in the Dragonscar! Slavers and smugglers and more. Oh, Aefric, I know how brave you are, but please don’t go getting yourself killed.

  Have you made any progress in finding out who was behind those awful stone men? I shudder just to imagine them.

  And what of those borogs, Po’rek and Ge’rek? Are they settling in well?

  I’ve never met a borog. I’ve heard the horror stories from the wars, of course, but you and I both know what it is to be judged by appearance and reputation. If you wish to make Deepwater a safe haven for borogs, then I’ll do all I can here in Riverbreak to make that work.

  When next I see you, after we’ve tended to the obvious matters, we should discuss Ajenmoor. I know a good deal about that city, its businesses, and its major players. After all, I’ve traveled there for Father on Goldenfall business, as well as with Duchess Arinda, on Deepwater business.

  I would be only too happy to share with you what I’ve learned about dealing with their businesspeople, their council, their mayor, and more.

  And now, Vercy is knocking. I must meet with her before we convene with those damned lers. So I must end this letter before I would.

  Farewell for now, my sweet Aefric, and know that I will be in your arms again as soon as I am able.

  Yours,

  Byrhta

  P.S. I’m so glad you like my new sigil. I’m still looking forward to playing my harp for you.

  By the time Aefric was done reading Byrhta’s letter, the afternoon was growing late. And yet, the king was still busy with the justiciar down in the cells beneath the castle.

  And so, Aefric gathered his advisers at the blackwood table in his private meeting room, to go over what Elkari had learned about the lost lers, and a few other things.

  To Aefric’s surprise, Karbin joined them. The hour must’ve been later than he thought. Which meant…

  “Has Maev arrived yet?” Aefric asked Kentigern, by way of starting the meeting.

  “Not yet,” Kentigern said, and Aefric could hear the hitch in his seneschal’s voice, as he held back the habitual honorific.

  Good. That these meetings were to be casual finally seemed to be settling in with him.

  Though he wasn’t done speaking.

  “I’ve been expecting a rika from Ajenmoor, when her highness’ ship sails past. But nothing as yet, which means she may not arrive until after dinner.”

  “Ah, well,” Aefric said, pouring himself a goblet of water. “It was worth asking. Karbin? Any luck with finding Calder and Gwawl?”

  “None,” Karbin said with a tired sigh. “I flew the lengths of both the Tainfyr and the Haven, twice. Searched at least a dozen ships. I can only conclude that our first instincts were right. That they fled overland to the coast. Most likely they’re somewhere along our coastline right now. Hiding. Waiting for nightfall, when a boat will row ashore to take them out to a ship and away.”

  “And we simply don’t have the resources right now to find them.” Aefric thumped his fist on the table. “Thank you for checking, all the same.”

  “Of course,” Karbin said with a weak smile. “Though, with your permission, after this meeting I’m going to rest and meditate for the rest of the day.”

  “Of course,” Aefric said, and caught Karbin, Ser Yrsa and Kentigern up about the meeting with Wylyn, Sifwyn’s confession, and where the king was now.

  “Where does that leave us with those forces massing at the Dragonscar?” Karbin asked.

  “That was my next question,” Aefric said, turning to Ser Yrsa.

  “There’s been a lot of activity on the north ridge today,” Ser Yrsa said grimly. “Word must’ve reached them about Duke Wylyn’s summons. Though I can’t imagine they’ve heard about the results of today’s meeting.”

  “Think they’ll try to start early?” Aefric asked.

  “I’ve left standing orders to repel them if they cross the border,” Ser Yrsa said. “Just in case.”

  “I’m tempted to go take care of it myself,” Aefric said.

  “Please don’t,” Ser Beornric said. “We must assume they’ll be ready to lob arrows or worse at flying wizards.”

  “Beornric’s right,” Ser Yrsa said. “I would be. Especially when my neighboring duke has a habit of flying into the hazard himself.”

  “That’s why I said it instead of doing it,” Aefric said. “Though the gods know I want to.”

  “Right now they haven’t crossed the line,” Ser Yrsa said. “They might even be intent on digging straight down for the north side gold. But your presence might spook someone into doing something stupid.”

  “You don’t think for a moment they intend to try to burrow all the way down from that ridge.”

  “No,” Ser Yrsa said. “I don’t. But it’s a believable story. And one they’ll tell if prompted into sudden combat.”

  “I won’t do it, all right?” Aefric asked.

  Sers Yrsa and Beornric studied Aefric closely.

  “What do you think?” Ser Yrsa asked Ser Beornric.

  “He means it,” Ser Beornric said, then nodded. “Should be all right.”

  Aefric almost said something, but he could see the way Ser Yrsa watched him. Waited for him to give her the chance to remind him exactly how many times he’d done just what he said he wouldn’t do this time.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m trying to be good.”

  Ser Yrsa nodded.

  “And as long as my being good doesn’t get my soldiers killed,” Aefric said, “I’ll have an easier time being good next time.”

  “Border squabbles will come,” Ser Yrsa said. “They’re almost inevitable, over a long enough span of time. And when they do, soldiers will die before you have a chance to cast a single spell. That’s the nature of the world. Your job as duke is to minimize your losses. Not foolishly try to eliminate them all together.”

  “She’s right,” Ser Beornric said. “And you know this. You’re an intelligent man, and this is all part of the same conversation you and I have been having for aetts.”

  “Think like a duke, not like an adventurer,” Aefric said.

  “The next step, actually,” Ser Beornric said. “Act like a duke, not an adventurer.”

  “Fine,” Aefric said. “I’ve agreed. Can we move on to the next topic now?”

  Yrsa and Beornric looked at each other. Nodded.

  Karbin fought a losing war against a smile.

  Aefric drew breath to make a snide remark, but Kentigern cleared his throat.

  Oh. Right. The meeting.

  “The justiciar has finished with the Malimfari knights,” Kentigern said. “They have committed no crimes, nor made any attempts to violate the sovereignty of either Armyr in general or Deepwater in specific.”

  “Did he find out what in the hells they are doing here?” Aefric asked.

  “They were told to expect Caiperas to try something intended to discredit either Princess Astrid or Malimfar or both. And so, they’ve been waiting and watching. Ready to intervene, if needed, or simply to report back.”

  “Did they say what they expect Caiperas to do?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “No,” Kentigern said. “Only that they had their orders from Princess Astrid herself.”

  Aefric frowned, trying to figure out what kind of game Malimfar and Caiperas were playing now.

  “The king has ordered their release,” Kentigern continued, “and they have returned to the Red Branch Inn.”

  “How did they take their arrest and questioning?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “They claim to harbor no ill will. That nothing we did was unexpected, and that, under the circumstances, they consider their treatment respectful.”

  “They do?” Aefric asked.

  “‘In light of the recent conflict between our countries,’” Kentigern said, “was how one of them put it.”

  “All right then,” Aefric said. “Keep an eye on them all the same. That they’ve done nothing wrong so far doesn’t mean they won’t in the future, if given an excuse or an order.”

  “Already done,” Ser Yrsa said. “When the king had them arrested, I gave the order to have them watched on release.”

  “You expected them to be released?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “I believe in being prepared for as many eventualities as I can foresee,” she answered.

  “Which is why you’re an excellent general,” Aefric said, “Elkari, you said you had more for me about those ‘lost lers.’”

  “Yes,” Elkari said, also clearly struggling not to add Aefric’s honorific. “I defined the research question as ‘What nobles have gone missing since the Godswalk Wars?’ With that in mind, by tracing family names and cross-referencing with the last survey of lands controlled by lers and knights, I’ve compiled a list of three dozen noble families from among ducal lands alone.”

  “Three dozen?” Aefric asked in disbelief.

  “Three dozen,” Elkari said confidently. “Each family missing either in whole or in part. Now, the next step will be to cross-reference those names with the known dead from the Godswalk Wars, as well as the list of those who have died since the wars. This should give us as accurate a final count as we could make currently.”

  Oh. That number included the dead. That made more sense.

  “Have any of them been found so far among the living?” Aefric asked, not holding out much hope.

  “Too soon to find many,” Elkari said. “Obviously Morgard and Karaleca of the Ol’Nara family, and Edric of the Ol’Nia family. Beyond that, I’ve received word by rika from Lachedran that Karaleca Ol’Nara claims to have discovered four more. But I await her full report, for details.”

  “So we might have found as many as six so far,” Aefric said.

  “Yes,” Elkari said. “Assuming that I can confirm the identities of those found by Mistress Karaleca.”

  “Good work,” Aefric said. “Keep me updated.”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  “Speaking of Morgard,” Ser Yrsa said. “He should be waiting in your sitting room by now, if you want to give him your decision.”

  “He can wait a little longer,” Aefric said. “Is there anything else going on today that I need to know about?”

  “One thing,” Ser Beornric said. “Duke Wylyn asked that I deliver these to you.”

  Ser Beornric set Wylyn’s wicked-looking magic daggers on the table, in their scabbards.

  Ser Yrsa whistled appreciatively.

  “His grace said that he offers these to you as a gesture of good faith, in case you believe he could successfully lie to the justiciar.”

  Aefric snorted. “If anyone could, it’s Wylyn Stormsent. But no, I don’t believe even he could lie to a justiciar of Taesark.”

  “A powerful gesture, though,” Ser Yrsa said. “Those are his old adventuring weapons, are they not?”

  “They are,” Aefric said. “And they’ll be his again as soon as he’s cleared. In fact, there’s no reason for me to take them upstairs.”

  With a few gestures, Aefric opened a cabinet on the far wall, then sent the two daggers floating across the room and onto a shelf.

  He closed the cabinet with a snap of his fingers.

  “It may not be that simple, your grace,” Kentigern said. “They’re a gift. Returning a gift from another noble is bad form.”

  “Those aren’t a gift from one duke to another,” Aefric said. “They’re a statement from one old adventurer to another. He’s swearing his innocence. And once his oath is proved true, I won’t deprive him of his favorite weapons.”

  “Your grace knows best, of course,” Kentigern said, hesitantly.

  “If that’s everything,” Aefric said, “let’s adjourn, and I’ll go talk to Morgard. Kentigern, I’ll want you along for this.”

  “Of course, your grace.”

  “Karbin, go get some rest.”

  “And food,” Karbin said, standing. “Food would be good.”

  Aefric chuckled as his old friend left, then went over his plans for Morgard with Kentigern and his knight-advisers.

  Morgard wasn’t waiting in Aefric’s public sitting room, as it turned out. He’d asked to wait out on the balcony, and Ocheda hadn’t seen any reason to refuse him.

  So Aefric, Kentigern, and Sers Yrsa and Beornric walked out into the late afternoon sun, to find Morgard Ol’Nara standing at the rail of the balcony, staring down at the lake beyond.

  The winds were light today, but had the fresh, warm scent of summer.

  Morgard was dressed as Aefric had first seen him. Tunic and breeches in deep shades of blue and green, both with multiple pockets. His pale blonde hair was freshly washed and combed, and his delicate features freshly shaven.

  Ser Beornric cleared his throat.

  Morgard had to shake himself to look away. Bowed deeply to Aefric.

  “Your grace,” he said, coming up from the bow with an expression of childlike wonder. “The view from this balcony. I’d seen Water’s End in the distance, at times, but never did I dream of such a view.”

  Aefric chuckled. “I confess, I take it for granted. Too much time spent flying even higher than this.”

  He stepped up beside Morgard, and looked down over the busy harbor, and the many ships sailing to and fro on the Deepwater.

  “I can appreciate the view’s beauty,” Aefric continued, “but it doesn’t steal my breath, as it might another’s.”

  “Your grace, I’m amazed I have enough breath to speak.” He shook his head. “And those towers.” Morgard looked up at the seven spires that stretched high into the skies above. “Dizzying just to think about.”

  Aefric chuckled again and turned to face a man who seemed so young, but was actually a few summers Aefric’s elder.

  “They’re called the Seven Great Spires of Water’s End,” Aefric said. “And the mightiest there, alone in the center, is the Spike.”

  “The view from there must be like looking down from the heavens themselves.”

  “True,” Aefric said, “but we aren’t here to discuss my view.” He looked Morgard over more seriously. “Thank you for allowing the Sinflissacta to work their magic this morning. They confirmed for me something I suspected already.”

  Morgard opened his mouth to speak. Kentigern cleared his throat noisily, and Morgard, chastened, closed his mouth again.

  “You have had to do a great deal to survive after the Godswalk Wars,” Aefric said. “Both for yourself and your sister, Karaleca.”

  Aefric could see the question in Morgard’s eyes, and answered it.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’ve met your sister. It was she who first told me about you, and how the two of you are the children of Ler Boury Ol’Nara. Which my historian has confirmed. Making you, the elder, the heir to the Ol’Nara lands.”

  “Oh, your grace…” Morgard started, but Kentigern cleared his throat again, so Morgard stilled.