The advocat was staring at a shaft of sunlight that was creeping across the floor from the high, narrow window. “It seems so unreal,” he murmured. “It makes no sense–for Aubine to have deprived me–and others–of loved ones, lemen, because of his own loss.”

“I know.” Unbidden, the memory of Eslingen on the stage of the Tyrseia, Aubine’s knife at his throat, rose in his mind, and he shook it away physically. “He was beyond rational thought. I don’t think he meant, don’t think he thought about the pain it would cause you. He only knew that Leussi was dangerous to his plan. Leussi died because he was an honorable man, a learned man, and too damned good at his job.”

Holles looked up at Rathe, his eyes bleak, but a small smile on his lips. “Not a bad eulogy, Rathe. I would hope to earn as much.”

“Not for a number of years yet, I hope, sir.”

“No.” Holles stood up. “I am in your debt. Aside from this”–he gestured with expansive contempt around the cell–“there is the matter of your having been called before the regents. I put you in an impossible situation with your superior and them, Rathe, and I’m sorry.”

“Rut you were right about Voillemin, sir, and I might have chosen not to believe it if you hadn’t come to me.”

“What happened to that one?” Holles wouldn’t even say the name.

“Voillemin?” Holles nodded, and Rathe’s eyes glinted with humor. “Oh, he’s been demoted from adjunct point–even the regents had to admit he had only gotten so far on his mother’s guild‑standing. He’s a common duty point now, and will be for a while, I would say.”

“Still here?”

Now Rathe grinned openly. “No, sir. It was felt he had been protected and privileged for too long. He’s been sent to Fair’s Point.”

It was not lost on Holles: Fair’s Point was the newest, most junior of the official districts. Voillemin was now the most junior of adjuncts in the entire city. Holles nodded slowly, his face grave, but his eyes betraying a grim satisfaction.

“The surintendent has a remarkable sense of justice.”

Rathe nodded. “He does that. If it had been up to me, I might not have been able to resist sending him someplace grittier, more southriver. Like Knives, say.”

Holles laughed out loud. “The good citizens of Knives surely don’t deserve that visited upon them.”

“No, but seeing him dealing with the descendants of the bannerdames in the Court might have been worth it. But Fourie has, I think, a soft spot in his heart for the district.”

“If he does, it’s the first soft spot I’ve heard of Fourie possessing,” Holles said dryly, and got to his feet. “I am in your debt, Rathe, and I won’t forget it.”

“Then I’d better hope I don’t have any cases that come before you. You’re an honorable man, Advocat. Let’s not talk of debts between us. You helped me when you gave me the intendent’s copy of the Alphabet. We’re quit.”

“Not until you’re out of here, justly,” Holles said, his voice quiet, but implacable, and for the first time since he had acquiesced in Trijn’s actions, Rathe felt confident that justice would, in fact, fall to him.

Eslingen paused at the Owl and Lamb’s kitchen door to settle the cover more securely on the basket. Two days Rathe had spent in Point of Dreams’s best cell, and no matter what Rathe said, it wasn’t justice. And he still wanted to say as much to Trijn, would do it as soon as Rathe was released–except, of course, that would only make things worse.

“Lieutenant vaan Esling?”

He looked up, to see a runner in Dreams’s livery poking a folded slip of paper at him, and he juggled the dinner basket awkwardly as he unfolded the note. It was from Trijn, her spiky hand unmistakable, bidding him attend a formal hearing at Point of Dreams at one o’clock that day. He frowned, and in the same moment heard the nearest tower clock strike one.

“She’s left it a bit late,” he said, and the runner looked up at him, uncomprehending.

“Please, Lieutenant, you need to hurry.”

“And whose fault is that?” Eslingen asked, but stretched his legs, so that they reached the station only half past the hour. To his surprise, there were two unmarked coaches in the yard, their horses stamping and blowing at the unfamiliar quarters, and a third that bore the crest of the queen’s judiciary. The unmarked carriages had to belong to someone of importance, from the quality of the horses, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight that waited for him inside. The usual furniture had been hastily moved to the walls of the large main room, the duty point’s table commandeered to form a makeshift bench, and Astreiant herself sat behind it, robed in red like any member of the judiciary. There were at least four other advocats as well, all in black and scarlet, and Eslingen recognized one of them as Kurin Holles. The woman with the impeccably painted hands had to be Rathe’s patronne Foucquet, he guessed, but the others were strangers to him, as was the woman in the regent’s respectable black, a silver badge around her neck. Her lips were pursed as though she had eaten something sour, but Astreiant was careful to include her in the proceedings. b’Estorr was there, as well, in dark grey university robes, with the Starsmith’s badge vivid on one sleeve. Rathe stood to one side, hands clasped politely behind his back–very much at his ease, Eslingen saw with relief, and close to the stove, too. Trijn stood with him, dressed in her best green wool, and seeing her, Eslingen wished he’d had sufficient warning to put on his own good coat. He set his basket down as discreetly as he could, and the movement drew Rathe’s eye, so that they smiled at each other across the crowded room.

“–seems to be fully resolved,” Astreiant was saying. She touched the faceless doll that stood on the table before her, the visible symbol of the queen’s authority, a gesture that looked more tender than was strictly necessary. “The advocats Foucquet and Holles have spoken on behalf of the accused, and the Soueraine de Ledey herself has declined to pursue the point. We have also heard testimony from both the points and from–other parties currently under restraint– that the landseur Aubine had taken actions that were intended to bring harm to Her Majesty the queen. This testimony has been accepted by this court, and by the Soueraine de Ledey. Therefore, I find Adjunct Point Nicolas Rathe blameless in this death, and release him to the company of his fellows, to enjoy all rights and privileges of a free man of this city, and an adjunct point under Her Majesty’s seal.” She paused, smiled suddenly. “I am also authorized, as Her Majesty’s representative, to offer this small gift in some recompense for the inconveniences he has suffered.”

She nodded to a liveried page, who came forward with a bulging purse. Rathe accepted it, a strained expression on his face, and Eslingen had to suppress a chuckle. Rathe prided himself on never taking fees, but he could hardly refuse this–and it was hardly a fee, Eslingen told himself sternly. Compensating a man for time he’d been unjustly imprisoned could hardly be considered a fee.

Astreiant rose to her feet, and the rest of the people crowding the room made their obeisance. Eslingen bowed with them, hoping to catch Rathe’s eye again as he straightened, and the page struck her staff on the stone floor.

“The session is hereby ended.”

The formality dissolved into excited conversation, and Eslingen shouldered his way through the crowd, nearly tripping over someone’s lapdog. The woman–one of the advocats–scooped it up, glaring, and Trijn grinned at him.

“Well, Lieutenant, I’m glad the girl found you.”

“So am I.” Eslingen looked around, unable to suppress his surprise. “That’s it? You didn’t need my testimony?”

“You’re Rathe’s leman,” Trijn answered. “They knew what you would say.”

That made a certain amount of sense, and Eslingen nodded, looked at Rathe. “What now?”