“That is a somewhat different matter, my lord,” said Father Patrique. “In that case, when there is evil intent on the part of the attacker, the evil itself can be reflected back upon its generator to cause the paralysis you spoke of. Any Master Sorcerer can use that as a defensive technique. But to cast a spell over a human being who has no evil intent requires the use of the sorcerer’s own power; he cannot use the psychic force of his attacker, since he is not being attacked. Therefore, his own spells require much more time to be set up and to become effective.”

“I see. Thank you, Father,” Lord Darcy said. “That clears up the matter. Well, let’s get along then and see the young lady.”

“With your permission, my lord,” said Master Sean, “I’ll go on to the Royal Steward. Likely Lord Bontriomphe will be wanting to take a look at my report.”

Lord Darcy smiled. “And likely you’d be wanting to get back to the Convention, eh?”

Master Sean grinned back. “Well, yes, my lord, I would.”

“All right. I’ll be along later.”

Sir Thomas Leseaux, tall, lean and grim-faced, was standing outside the Gardenia Suite, which the Duchess of Cumberland had given to Tia Einzig. “Good morning, my lord,” he said. “I… I want to thank you for what you did last night, but I know of no way to do so.”

“My dear Sir Thomas, I did nothing that you would not have done had you been there. And there is no need for the grim look.”

“Grim?” Sir Thomas forced a smile. “Was I grim?”

“Of course you were grim, Sir Thomas. Why shouldn’t you be? You have heard Tia’s story and you are greatly afraid that I shall arrest her on a charge of espionage.”

Sir Thomas blinked and said nothing.

“Come, come, my dear fellow,” said Lord Darcy. “She cannot have betrayed the Empire to any great extent, else you would be as eager for her arrest as anyone. You are not a man to allow love to blind you. Further, may I remind you of the laws concerning King’s Evidence. Ah, that’s better, Sir Thomas, now your smile looks more genuine. And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I shall allow you to pace this hallway at your leisure.” He opened the door and went in.

Lord Darcy walked through the sitting room of the Gardenia Suite toward the bedroom, and halfway there heard a girl’s voice.

“My Lord Darcy? Is that you?”

Lord Darcy went to the bedroom door. “Yes, Damoselle, I am Lord Darcy.”

She was in bed, covered by warm blankets up to her shoulders. Her lips curved in a soft smile. “You are handsome, my lord. I am very glad. I don’t think I should care to owe my life to an ugly man.”

“My dear Tia, so long as beauty such as yours has been saved, the beauty of he who saved it is immaterial.” He walked over and sat down in the chair by her bed.

“I won’t ask you how you came to be there when you were so sorely needed, my lord,” she said softly. “I merely want to say again that I am glad you were.”

“So am I, Damoselle. But the question, as you have said, does not concern how I happened to be upon that bridge, but how you did. Tell me about Master Ewen MacAlister.”

For a moment her mouth was set in grim, hard lines; then she smiled again. “I’ll have to go back a little; back to my home in Banat.”

The story she told him was essentially the same as the one she had told Mary of Cumberland — with added details. Her Uncle Neapeler had been denounced for practicing his Healing Art by a business rival, and because his political sympathies were already suspect, the Secret Police of King Casimir IX had come to their home to arrest them both. But Neapeler Einzig had been prepared for just such an eventuality, and his strong — although untrained — Talent had warned him in time. Only a few minutes ahead of the dread Secret Police, they had both headed toward the Italian border. But the Secret Police, too, had sources of sorcery, and the fleeing pair had almost been caught in a trap, less than a hundred yards from the frontier. Neapeler had told his niece to run while he stood off the Secret Police.

And that was the last she had seen of him.

The story she told of her movements through Italy and of her extradition hearing in Dauphine was a familiar one to Lord Darcy, but he listened with care. Then she came to the part he had been waiting for.

“I thought I was safe when Sir Thomas brought me here to England,” she said, “and then Master Ewen came to me. I didn’t know who he was then; he didn’t tell me his name. But he told me that Uncle Neapeler had been captured and imprisoned by the Polish Secret Police. My uncle was being treated well, he said, but his continued well-being would depend entirely upon my cooperation.

“Master Ewen told me that Sir Thomas knew the secret of a weapon that had been developed for the Angevin Imperial Navy. He didn’t know what the weapon was, but the Polish Secret Service had somehow discovered its existence and knew that Sir Thomas had highly valuable information concerning it. Since he knew that Sir Thomas trusted me, he asked me to get this information for him. He threatened to torture — to kill — Uncle Neapeler unless I did as he asked.” She turned her head back suddenly and looked straight at Lord Darcy. “But I didn’t. You must understand that I didn’t. Sir Thomas will tell you, I never once asked him about any of his secret work — never!”

Lord Darcy thought of Sir Thomas’ face as he had last seen it. “I believe you, Damoselle. Go on.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell them anything, and I didn’t want to betray Sir Thomas, either. I told them that I was trying. I told them that I was working my way into his confidence. I told them” — she paused for a moment, biting at her lower lip — “I told Master Ewen anything and everything I could to keep my uncle alive.”

“Of course,” said Lord Darcy gently. “No one can blame you for that.”

“And then came the Convention,” she said. “MacAlister said I had to attend, that I had to be there. I tried to stay away. I pointed out to him that even though I had been admitted to the Guild as an apprentice, the Convention does not normally accept apprentices as members. But he said that I had influence — with Sir Thomas, with His Grace the Archbishop — and that if I did not do my best to get in, he would see that I was sent one of Uncle Neapeler’s fingers for every day of the Convention I missed. I had to do something, you understand that, don’t you, my lord?”

“I understand,” said Lord Darcy.

“Ewen MacAlister,” she went on, “had warned me specifically to stay away from Master Sir James Zwinge. He said that Sir James was a top counterspy, that he was head of the Imperial Intelligence apparatus for Europe. So I thought perhaps Sir James could help me. I went to his room Wednesday morning. I met him just as he was leaving the lobby, and asked if I could speak to him. I told him that I had important information for him.” She smiled a little. “He was very grouchy, but he asked me to come to his room. I told him everything — about my uncle, about Master Ewen — everything.

“And he just sat there!

“I told him surely the Imperial agents could get my uncle out of a Polish prison.

“He told me that he knew nothing about spy work, that he was merely a forensic sorcerer, working for the Marquis de London. He said he knew no way of getting my uncle out of a Polish prison or any other prison for that matter.

“I was furious. I don’t really know what I said to him but it was — vicious. I wish now that I had not said it. I left his room and he locked the door after me. I may have been the last person to see Sir James Zwinge alive.” Then she added hurriedly, “That is, aside from his murderer.”

“Damoselle Tia,” said Lord Darcy in his most gentle voice, “at this point I must tell you something, and I must ask you to reveal it to no one else until I give you leave. Agreed?”