But some things, she had also learned, were actually closer than they seemed to be. This was proved true again just as Jesa finished patting and rocking the baby into quiet once more and put her back in her cradle. A guard knocked on the door and announced the duke’s brother Drusis, Earl of Trevinta and Eadne.

“How can this be?” Saluceris looked startled, almost fearful. “He was at his place in the east.” He stood up. “Never mind. I will meet him downstairs, dear, to spare you . . .”

But even before he had finished the sentence, the doors swung inward, and Drusis strode in. “Forgive me,” the duke’s brother half-shouted, as if to a crowd. “I am filthy from the road, and I intrude on you even in your own chamber, dear sister-in-law!”

Jesa, who could be timid at the best of times, leaped in surprise at the newcomer’s loud voice: she had never been in a small room with Earl Drusis before, though she had seen him at court functions, and he was always the subject of much conversation. Taller than his brother the duke and impressively muscular, Drusis was also daunting in other ways, with a handsome, full-lipped face and thick, curly hair, brown with a brassy shine. He wore the armor of a cavalry general, although technically he was neither, or at least that was what Jesa had heard Saluceris complain many times. He also seemed to seethe with strength and youth, although he was but a single, slim hour younger than his brother. It was almost impossible not to stare at him, though Jesa was terrified at the idea of meeting his eyes.

“You are welcome any time, good Drusis, of course,” said Duchess Canthia, holding out her hand to him. “This house is yours, also, and always will be.”

“You are too kind, sister-in-law.” He bowed and then kissed her hand.

“Of course you are welcome,” echoed Saluceris, but after the thunder of his brother’s entrance, his words were spoken quietly, even reluctantly. “We are merely surprised to see you, brother. We thought you were at Chasu Orientis.”

“And so I was. But I wasted no time getting back. I could not bear to think of you and your young family sitting here in the Sancellan, oblivious to the dangers that threaten.”

“Dangers? What dangers?” the duke demanded. Jesa thought he seemed split between genuine worry and annoyance at his brother’s sudden, loud presence.

“The horse-eaters. They have attacked us! They have attacked Chasu Orientis!”

Duchess Canthia put her sewing down. “That is terrible, Drusis. When did this happen?”

“Just a sennight ago.” Drusis walked to the window, looked down on the harbor and all the sails bobbling there like resting gulls.

“I cannot believe the Thrithings-men would be so mad, to attack your home. What did they do?”

“Oh, they did not besiege the castle itself,” said Drusis, waving his hand as if to swat away a troublesome fly. “But they attacked Drinas Novis, a town within a few miles of the castle, on the edge of my land.”

“A settlement.”

“Yes, I suppose. What does the name we give it matter? The barbarians killed a score of our people, wounded three times that many, and burned half the houses to the ground. Nearly twenty people dead, Saluceris—men, women, and children! Does it matter that their town is new?”

Saluceris shook his head. “Of course not. But it matters to the Thrithings-men that we are building towns on what was once their land.”

Drusis shook his head in outrage. “Are you defending these murderers, brother? What kind of thing is that for the duke of Nabban to do, when our own people are being killed by savages?”

“It is terrible,” said Canthia, looking to her husband. “Surely there is something we can do for them?”

Jesa thought Saluceris looked like a man who had just discovered that the widow he was marrying already had eight fat, hungry children. “Of course we can help, wife. But you, brother, I don’t understand what you want. Do you not have two score knights or more at Chasu Orientis, and pikemen a-plenty?”

When Drusis scowled, his entire face changed, the strong, handsome features becoming almost a mummer’s mask of sullen anger. “Do you think this is the only thing that has happened of late? Lesta Hermis had his land raided three times in Feyever. Last Novander the cursed Thrithings-men attacked the party of Escritor Raelis on his way to Kwanitupul. How long must we wait before we do something? Until they have set fire to the Mahistrevan Hill, murdered our children, and raped our women in their own homes?” His dark face had grown even darker with anger, but his eyes caught Duchess Canthia’s and it seemed to fluster him. “I beg your pardon for my harsh speech, my lady. I am upset and careless because of it.” He turned back to his brother. “Do not think because you wear the ducal ring by a fluke of birth, Saluceris, that I will stand back and see our land overrun by savages, our villages burned, our people slaughtered.”

“You grow hot too quickly, Drusis,” said the duke. As his brother had grown darker, Saluceris had grown paler, so that they seemed opposites rather than the product of a single womb. “Stand back and see our land overrun? I have said nothing of the sort—those words are all yours.” He took a breath, and even Jesa could see the duke was fighting for control. When he lifted a hand up to stroke his beard, his fingers were trembling. “No, we will discuss the problem and deal with it as we always have, in council with our fellow nobles in the Dominiate. Now, you have had a long ride, I doubt not, and little in the way of rest or refreshment—the dust of the road is still on you.” Saluceris clapped his hands and within a moment two servants had stepped through the door. “Take my brother to his accustomed chamber and see that he has everything he needs,” the duke told them. “We will speak again later, Drusis.”

Jesa saw that the earl’s face was still red with anger, but thought she saw something else too, a gleam in Drusis’ eye like a hunter whose prey had finally broken cover. “Very well. But I will not hide my feelings in front of Ingadaris, Albias, Claves and the rest. If you will not help me to stamp out these grassland vermin, brother, I will do it myself!”

With that, he turned and strode out of the chamber, the two male servants scurrying to keep up with him.

Little Serasina was crying again, and this time the duchess came and took her from Jesa, pressing her daughter close against her and giving her a finger to suck until the baby’s hitching sobs had quieted. “Fetch the wet-nurse,” she told Jesa. “Too much shouting. The child will need feeding before she’ll sleep again.”

As Jesa was on her way out, she heard her mistress tell the duke, “I would forgive your brother much if I thought he was truly angry.”

“What?” The duke sounded confused. “What are you saying, Canthia?”

“That I think it is an imposture. That he wears that angry face and those stormy sentiments like a mask.”

“You do not understand Drusis, wife. He has always been strong-headed since he was a child, hot as fire. He has always leaped first and looked afterward.”

“Oh, I think he looks exactly where he is going to leap,” Canthia said, and it was surprising for Jesa to hear the harsh undercurrent in the duchess’ sweet voice. “I think he looks very carefully.”

The door fell closed behind her and Jesa did not hear any more.

29 Brown Bones and Black Statues