Austra's voice was rising as she got angrier.

"You're right. When we were out on the road, running for our lives, she was starting to get the idea, to think about the rest of us now and then, to understand that the world wasn't all about her, with the eyes of every foocned saint on her. But now it is all about her, isn't it?"

"She cares about you, Austra."

"Yes, and you. You and I are more real to her than anyone else. But it's what we mean to her that matters: what we can do for her, how we make her feel. When we cross her, when we don't want to do what she wants, she can't understand it. It doesn't make sense to her, and rather than figuring we have our own wants and reasons, she thinks we're attacking her. You see? That's how she sees things: Everything we do is about her."

"It can't be that bad," Cazio said.

"You just said she sent you away because you wouldn't do something she wanted."

"Well, that's not what she said. She said she needed someone she could trust in Dunmrogh."

"What did she ask you to do?"

"Ah, walk the faneway of Mamres."

Austra's tear-reddened eyes went bigger. "Oh, saints, Cazio." She lay back. "You see?" she sighed. "As much as she ought to know you, she doesn't. How could she think you would sacrifice your art as a dessrator to become one of those-things?"

Cazio blinked and suddenly realized he was on the verge of tears himself.

"Ted amao," he said, completely lost in emotion. "Edio ted amao. I love you."

"Ecco," she said, her voice faint but firm. "I love you too."

He took her hand.

"Anne loves us, too, in her way," Austra said. "I think she sent us away because we know her. We remind her that she has been better, could be better."

The pace of the carriage suddenly picked up, and z'Acatto was shouting something up front.

"A moment," Cazio said, and kissed Austra on the forehead. He stood and opened the little door in the ceiling and pulled himself up.

"We have friends," z'Acatto shouted.

Cazio looked behind and saw six mounted knights, all in the colors of Lord Gravio.

Swearing, he drew Acredo, but there was nothing much to be done until the riders caught up with them, which wouldn't be long. Then there wouldn't be any time for tricks, just two against six.

Well, that wasn't so bad. He had beaten more than that below the palace in Eslen. Of course, they hadn't been as heavily armored, but the odds had been worse.

If he could reach the same state, chiado sivo, they had a chance.

So he paused, clearing his mind, trying not to think about the fight ahead, only about the symmetries of arm, foot, body, point, edge, and grip.

A moment later they passed into a wood, and Cazio began humming, because that was even better: Their horses would be less useful here, their armor more of an encumbrance. He was just about to jump to the ground and start the fight when z'Acatto cursed a saint whose name itself was a curse.

He turned to find out why in time to see footmen pouring into the road from the trees and the trap well and truly closed.

Chiado sivo. Entirely sword.

He leaped from the carriage toward the lead rider, blade straight out like a spear.

CHAPTER SIX

NEIL KNELT to the masked woman.

"Majesty," he said, trying to keep his mind still.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir Neil," she said with a slight emphasis on "meet" that he thought he understood.

Neil heard a little gasp behind him and saw that Alis had been brought in. Her eyes were founts of incredulity.

"Ah, Sister Alis," Brinna said. "Did you know who I was?"

"Lady, I did not know," Alis said. She seemed completely off her footing, something Neil hadn't ever seen before. Of course, he was having a hard time keeping his own face composed.

"And now you do," the woman he had known as both Brinna and Swanmay said. She took a step toward Alis and raised a cup of wine. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, Highness, I would rather not."

"You admit it, then," the inquisitor snarled. "You admit the attempt at murder."

Alis held her head high. "My queen and this knight knew nothing of my intentions. You cannot hold them accountable."

"Oh, it was all your idea, then?" the masked woman said.

"I'm telling the truth," Alis said.

"I'm sure you are," Brinna relied. "You just haven't mentioned who actually put you up to it."

Alis didn't reply, but Brinna's gaze turned languidly to Neil. "That would be your Queen Anne, Sir Neil."

"I don't believe that, Highness," Neil said.

"Because it is untrue," Alis added.

"Well, we shall see. Inquisitor, take Lady Berrye to the room of the waters. Don't do anything permanent to her, do you hear? I want to talk to her myself later."

"Very good, Highness. And the knight?"

"I wish to converse with him alone," she replied.

The matron frowned. "That is unwise."

"I do not think so, inquisitor. Every exit from this place is guarded, and he is unarmed. But from what I've heard of this man, that wouldn't stop him any more than your continued presence would if his intention was to strangle me. What will stop him is his word. Sir Neil, will you behave yourself if left alone with me? Will you promise to make no assault on me or attempt to escape?"

"I promise not to harm your person in any way, Highness, and I won't try to escape during our conversation. After I leave this room, I can't make any such promise."

"That seems fair enough to me, inquisitor."

"Lady, it is still not appropriate."

"I say what's appropriate in my own house," Brinna purred. "And there will be no gossip of it, or I will know where it came from."

"I serve your father, not you," Walzamerka said.

"But unless my father gives a very specific command to disobey, you will do my will."

"Why do you want to be alone with him?"

"Because I believe you can torture Sir Neil for a thousand days and learn nothing. But a candid conversation held in private might yield some…insights."

The inquisitor's mouth parted, and a look very like fear passed across her features. "I see, Highness," she said. "I didn't understand."

"Good."

When she was gone and the chamber door had closed, Brinna smiled.

"Walzamerka thinks I'm going to tear your soul out."

"Are you?"

She gestured toward a chair. "Sit, Sir Neil."

He did so, and she stared at him for several moments with those eyes of hers, so deep blue that in any light other than sunlight they appeared almost black.

"Did you also come here to kill me, Sir Neil?"

"I swear by the saints my people swear by that I did not, Princess Brinna."

Her lip quirked, and she poured two goblets of wine.

"This is not poisoned," she said. "Would you have some?"

"I would."

She handed him the goblet. He took it with numb hands.

"You're Marcomir's daughter," he said at last.

"Yes," she said. She reached up and removed the mask, revealing the strong cheekbones and contours he remembered so well. Only her gaze was different; it looked slightly unfocused.

"I don't understand," he said, unable to look away from her dark eyes. "When I met you-"

"Fancy a game of Fiedchese?" she interrupted.

"Fiedchese?"

"Yes."

She rang a bell, and a moment later a young girl in braids brought a board and pieces. The board had squares of rust and bone. The girl left again through a cleverly placed door Neil was unable to see once it had closed.

"It's the same board," he said. "From the ship."

"Yes, of course." She placed the pieces in their starting positions. "This set is rather dear to me." Her eyes shifted up. "King or raiders?"