“We didn’t harm the House,” Lady Mar said, breaking into his thoughts. “I know you have no reason to believe us, but we didn’t.”

“Perhaps I have no reason,” Karlyn said, “but I believe you. What decided you to leave when you did?”

Lady Mar took a deep breath. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on when she’d arrived with the Mercenary brothers, now much creased and dirty. But she seemed not to notice any discomfort. “I’d been used,” she said, a bitter twist to her mouth. “I didn’t know how badly just at first. I knew I’d been lied to, though, and I couldn’t stay where there was no one I could trust.”

Tough, all right. Tougher than some other cousins of the House he could name. Karlyn turned to Gundaron. The Scholar clamped his jaw, not like someone determined not to speak, Karlyn thought, but like someone who expected the words to burn on their way out. The Lady Mar put her dust-grimed hand on the Scholar’s arm.

“I know you have no reason to believe me,” Karlyn said, deliberately echoing Mar-eMar’s words. “But you can trust me. I did not choose to leave Tenebro House, I have been Cast Out for refusing to hunt for Dhulyn Wolfshead and Parno Lionsmane. I believe we are allies.” The two youngsters glanced at each other before looking back at him. Was there hope in their eyes? “What is this you were saying about Mercenary House,” he asked them.

“We’ve amends to make,” Lady Mar said, her eyes flicking toward the Scholar. “And information to give. But we can’t get anyone to listen to us.”

Karlyn nodded. “I believe I can,” he said. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I believe they might listen to me.”

Parno turned the Tarkin’s sword gently out of the way, using the palm of his hand against the flat of the blade, and, letting his own sword drop to the floor, poked Tek-aKet in the sternum with the forefinger of his right hand. Both men, the Tarkin red-faced but smiling, stepped back from one another.

“You’re not afraid of the blade, which is good,” Dhulyn said, stepping forward as Parno retrieved his sword. “But you kept your own too low, and too far off the central line. Watch.” She took the Tarkin’s place and came at Parno slowly, her movements exaggerated in such a way that Tek-aKet Tarkin would have no trouble following. She held her sword so that the sharpened tip sagged below her waist. As she advanced on Parno, he once again turned the blade aside with the palm of his hand.

“Do you see?” Dhulyn said. “Your blade was off-center, and at an angle that made it easy for him to turn it aside, even without another weapon of his own. Now watch where I have mine.” Dhulyn executed almost the identical move, except this time Parno was able to turn her blade aside only by sacrificing his own forward momentum, and losing any chance to turn the move to his advantage. She and Parno lifted their points and stepped back.

“Did you see, Lord Tarkin?”

Tek-aKet nodded, brow furrowed. “I thought I’d had good teachers, but you’ve shown me things-” He lifted his shoulders and let them drop. “I didn’t think to watch his bare hand.”

Dhulyn sheathed her sword and extended both her hands to show the fine scars on the palms. “When it’s life and death, and not for show, everything is a weapon. Kill or be killed, all battles come down to this.”

“Kill or be killed,” Tek-aKet repeated, his dark brows drawn down into a vee over his clear blue eyes. “I think you have shown me more than a Shora of offense and defense, Dhulyn Wolfshead, I think you have answered a question for me.” He looked up at them, the sheen of sweat drying on his upper lip. “I think I must take back the Carnelian Throne.”

“There was some doubt of this?” Parno’s eyebrows could not raise any higher.

Tek-aKet nodded, his eyes hooded. “I never wanted to be Tarkin,” he said, a half smile playing about his lips. “My brother died of a fever, and I had to take his place. It did actually occur to me that this was my chance to take Zella and the children and go to her sister in Berdana.”

“And what decides you against that?” Dhulyn said.

“Zella and the children,” he said. “My family will never be safe with Lok-iKol Tenebroso on the throne. No matter where we go, what we do, he will see us as a threat until he hunts us down and kills us all. He’s been doing exactly that to his own House for years.” He lowered his eyes again, and his face turned to stone. “But there is also this. Lok-iKol is not Tarkin of Imrion. Neither by inheritance nor by Ballot. I find it is, after all, that simple. I will not walk away from my throne, my people, my responsibilities, and leave them to that jackal. I must find some place, some fortress or other, that I can use to rally my army. If I move quickly, then many who are now confused will come to us.”

“Well,” Parno said lightly. “We’re looking for work, Lord Tarkin. We’d give you a good rate.”

The sound of hoofbeats on the cobbles of the lane outside the tavern drew every eye to the window and three of the regulars to the door. Karlyn-Tan stayed in his seat by the inner window that let out on the stable yard, polishing the buckle of his sword belt in the sunshine that found its way through the open shutters. The two youngsters were in his room upstairs, smuggled in the back way and even now taking advantage of warmed water and soap. It wasn’t until it was obvious the horse was stopping that Karlyn put aside the buckle and polishing cloth and turned toward the door. He knew the sound of a horse that was being ridden, and there was only one noble he could think of who might have reason to come to this particular inn.

Dal-eDal entered and stepped immediately to one side so as not to present a silhouette in the entrance-and also to let his two guards enter with him. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness of the taproom, his chin lifted as he caught sight of Karlyn-Tan. He crossed the half-empty room with a nod at the innkeeper behind the bar and joined Karlyn at his corner table. Karlyn smiled when the nobleman sat down with his back to rest of room-evidently Dal was sure that Karlyn would warn him if there should be any trouble. Or perhaps he was counting on the loyalty of the two guards, now being served at the bar? The young nobleman looked paler than usual, with lines around his eyes Karlyn had not seen before. When his cup of wine arrived, the fingers that turned it around on the tabletop without lifting it to his lips trembled slightly.

“You might have been better to come afoot,” Karlyn-Tan said. “You’d attract less attention.” He threw a pointed glance around at the patrons of the barroom, only some of whom were minding their own business. Others seemed to think that a well-dressed and mounted nobleman, even with two guards, was their business.

“I will not be in Gotterang long enough for attention to harm me,” Dal-eDal said, turning to sit sideways in his seat.

That was enough to make Karlyn look up once more from his polishing, as Dal-eDal must have known it would.

“My House and lord, Lok-iKol,” Dal said quietly, his eyes now idly drifting over the room, “has an errand for me outside the city.”

“Lok-iKol wishes you to leave Gotterang?”

Dal-eDal inclined his head once.

Karlyn-Tan relaxed, allowing his shoulders to rest against the wall behind his bench. No one in the House had thought it strange that this younger cousin had been kept on a short leash. Younger cousins who were part of the succession, even if they had no apparent ambition, were always a danger to heirs, and best kept where they could be carefully watched. This was no less true now that Lok-iKol was calling himself Tarkin. And yet Lok-iKol was now sending Dal away?

Karlyn let his eyes drift over to the two men watching from the bar. “Is he so sure of himself, now that he is Tarkin?”