“Gentlemen,” the duchess said, “I am as disturbed by this as any of you, but we cannot allow ourselves to be driven to illegal action.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Idexes said, “but legalities will do us no good when our enemies murder us in our beds.” His tone was respectful, but his thin face looked as though he had bitten a lemon by accident.

“I doubt my husband feels the same—do you, Saluceris?”

Jesa winced, and was glad no one could see her in the darkened room where the baby was sleeping. The duchess was generally sweet-tempered, but Canthia did not like Idexes at all: if the duke did not take her side, there would be trouble later.

“It is more complicated than that, my dear wife,” said Saluceris; Jesa could almost feel the look she felt sure the duchess must be giving him.

“Of course it is, my dear husband. That is the point I am making. Do you think that if you round up the leaders of the mob they will admit that Drusis and the Ingadarines urged them to riot?”

“They will tell the truth under torture,” insisted Rillian Albias.

“They will say anything their torturers suggest,” said the duchess. “And their families will hate us forever, and other houses will take their sides who are now neutral, and Lector Vidian himself will denounce us—do not forget that he became lector largely because of Dallo Ingadaris’ father. And I have not even pointed out that the High Queen in Erkynland is Ingadarine by blood. How much sympathy will we have from the High Throne if we execute the queen’s cousin on the evidence of a few tortured peasants?”

Jesa could hear Idexes struggling to remain courteous. “And what does Her Grace suggest? That we allow this attack to go unpunished? That we pretend it never happened? Do you know, they burned three of my warehouses? Nine hundred gold imperators worth of goods lost!”

“For all your talk of murder,” the duchess said, “your concern seems to be more with your money.”

“That is unfair. Your Grace, must I have my motives impugned?” Idexes was clearly talking to the duke now—Jesa saw him clink past the opening of the door, his armor jingling. “We are your staunchest allies, Duke Saluceris. Must we suffer for it?”

“Enough, enough.” Saluceris sounded tired and frustrated, his anger now turned on something more inward. “Yes, Idexes, you are my ally. I do not forget that. And I’m sure the duchess does not forget it, either. Do you, my lady?”

“Of course not, my lord.” But Canthia did not sound very contrite.

“May I say something, Your Grace?”

Jesa straightened a little, recognizing the voice of Viscount Matreu, her rescuer.

“Why is this man here?” Rillian Albias asked suddenly. “Those of us gathered here have been with you all along, Your Grace. Who is this man and how does he gain a place among us?”

“You know me perfectly well, Count Rillian,” said Matreu.

“This man saved my life, and the life of the Duke’s child,” said the duchess. “Have you something to say against him? Because I will be interested to hear what that might be, that would keep the one man who actually did something useful out of this discussion.”

“Please, my dear. Rillian did not know all that happened, as he has just arrived.” But the duke’s voice was indeed a little sharper as he addressed the count of Albias. “Matreu has done a heroic thing, for which you should all thank him a thousand times. Of course he may speak.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I only wished to point out that the riot did not begin this evening. It began last night, when three men wearing the Ingadarine albatross were found dead on the steps of Sacred Redeemer’s Church in Tellis Narassi. The rumor is that it was another brawl between Kingfishers and Stormbirds, as they more and more call themselves. But this one went further than most and ended in murder. To put things plainly, it was not difficult for your enemies to find angry folk in that neighborhood this morning. If my counsel means anything, I suggest that an even-handed approach might be more useful. Find all who engaged in the brawl, no matter which side they were on, and punish the survivors.”

“Are you mad?” said Idexes shrilly. “Punish our own men for defending themselves? Your Grace, the Ingadarines swagger all over the north side of the city as though one of their own sits here in the Sancellan Mahistrevis. They pick fights with our armed soldiers when they can find them, and when they cannot, they find innocents who happen to be wearing some token of support for your throne and then beat them half to death. Apparently a few of these villains ran into someone who fought back against their mischief. You cannot make an example of your own supporters!”

“I disagree,” said Matreu. “That is exactly what you must do if you wish to keep the peace, Duke Saluceris. Punish all who engage in illegal brawling, regardless of what badge they wear or to what house they bear allegiance. Only that way will you convince the rest of Nabban that you want peace and justice.”

“Peace and justice,” snorted Rillian. “It sounds to me as though you wish to take the sword from the duke’s hand and replace it with a justice’s staff. Do you confront your own enemies with a book of laws?”

“Sometimes it is not so easy to know who your enemies are, Count Rillian. And sometimes those who act with foolish swiftness make more enemies than they dispatch.”

Jesa had to restrain the urge to cry out in pleasure at this sally, as if she were watching a game of feather-float between her brothers back home in Red Pig Lagoon. She knew that if she made a noise she would certainly be sent away, so she moved a little farther back into the shadows and sat with her hand over her mouth. Still, she was delighted to know that someone who looked so much like herself could stand and trade words with some of the mightiest men in Nabban.

“Your Grace,” said a new voice with the gravelly scrape of age. “I think we waste our time in argument between ourselves that makes more smoke than heat. This is your decision and yours alone.”

“That I know, Uncle,” the duke said. “And as always, I value your calm words. But I would still know your mind.”

Now Jesa knew it was old Envalles who had spoken, the brother of Duke Saluceris’ late mother. Jesa had not heard him come in, but it made sense he would be present, since he was one of the duke’s chief counselors. She liked Envalles, who was one of the few members of the household beside the duchess herself who ever spoke to Jesa. Sometimes he even brought her apples from his estate outside the city.

“As it happens, Your Grace, I agree with Count Idexes and Count Rillian that this assault on your wife and child cannot be ignored. But I also think there is merit in what Viscount Matreu says. Surely the people of Nabban will be as angered at this dreadful affront as we all are. Never forget, the real danger here is your brother. Without Drusis, Dallo Ingadaris is only a fat nobleman with money.”

“A fat nobleman with more money than God himself and five hundred armed men inside the city walls!” protested Idexes.

“Nevertheless, it is not solely Ingadarine gold that creates this rebellion,” Envalles said. “Some of the concerns they speak for are genuine, even if their motives are not.”

“Such as?” asked Saluceris.

“We have talked of it several times in the past sennight already,” said his uncle. “The Thrithings-folk continue to raid the easternmost counties, burning settlements, stealing cattle and sheep, killing those who oppose them. Much of Count Dallo’s influence comes from the border nobles. They are frightened, and they are right to be so. The men of the grasslands are numerous. If they ever cease fighting among themselves—if anyone ever unites them—Nabban itself will be in danger. All the civilized lands will be.”

“I respect your uncle’s wisdom,” said Rialles in a way that made it sound to Jesa as if he spoke through clenched teeth, “but I think in this case he is being foolish.”