Shala sighed. “I’d like to believe that. An alternative explanation would help.”

“And I don’t have one,” Perra said. “What I can tell you is that my embassy keeps track of all the dragonborn who visit Luthcheq. Yet I don’t recognize any of the ones who died last night.”

Medrash took a step forward. “Majesty, may I speak?”

Shala gave a brusque little nod.

“As the ambassador said,” Medrash continued, “we don’t know any of the dead dragonborn. What’s more, I noticed that none of them had clan piercings like these.” He touched a claw to one of the white studs in his left profile. “The piercings every Tymantheran carries.”

“So they took them out,” Zan-akar said.

“I doubt it, milord,” Medrash replied. “I couldn’t find scars to show where any had ever gone in.”

“This is a transparent attempt to obscure the truth,” said Zan-akar, pale sparks dropping from his markings. “Where do dragonborn come from except Tymanther?”

“Majesty,” Perra said, gritting her teeth. “Is Lord Zan-akar here to serve as your inquisitor?”

“No,” Shala said. “But I want to hear what he has to say. Because we now share similar concerns.”

“Majesty,” Perra said, “your concern should make you want to understand what’s really been happening in Luthcheq these past several tendays. And it’s obvious we still don’t.”

“How so?” Shala asked.

“When we believed there was only one killer,” the stooped old dragonborn said, “we could ascribe his crimes to madness. That can’t explain the actions of an entire conspiracy. So what was the point of the murders?”

“To create unrest and undermine confidence in Her Majesty’s rule,” Zan-akar said. “An end to which any foe might aspire.”

Perra kept her gaze fixed on the war hero. “Sir Balasar and Sir Medrash tell me the Green Hands started fires.”

“When discovered, spies and assassins often try to destroy their papers,” Zan-akar said.

“They also tried to obliterate esoteric symbols painted on a wall and floor,” Perra said.

Somewhat to Jhesrhi’s dismay, Shala turned to her. “Witch, I understand you saw these symbols.”

Jhesrhi took a breath. “By the time I put out the fires, the marks were mostly gone. I believe they had mystical import, but I can’t tell you anything more.”

“We already know the dragonborn used some form of magic,” Zan-akar said. “We can also assume they have their creeds and observances the same as anyone else. I don’t see how this is relevant.”

“Then ask yourself this,” Perra replied. “If they were all going to make a stand against their pursuers, kill them or die trying, then why bother destroying their arcana? Isn’t it possible that some people escaped the house while their fellow murderers kept Captain Fezim and his companions busy? And that the conspirators burned their documents and pentagrams so they wouldn’t provide clues to the identities of those who remain at large?”

Shala turned to Aoth. “Is it possible?”

Though it didn’t show on his face, Jhesrhi could almost feel Aoth wince. If he admitted there might still be killers running loose, would that keep the Brotherhood in the capital?

“We found a cellar,” he said. “It connects to tunnels, probably used to move goods in the days when Luthcheq was a port. Someone could have gotten out that way. But there’s no evidence anybody did.”

“Still, Majesty,” Perra said, “you can see how many unanswered questions there are. Let me help you find the answers.”

Zan-akar sneered. “Or bury them.”

Khouryn cleared his throat. “Majesty?”

Shala didn’t look at a dwarf with much more warmth than she showed a wizard. But her tone was civil when she said, “Yes?”

“Whatever remains hidden,” Khouryn said, “there’s one thing we do know with certainty. Not all dragonborn are complicit in the murders. Sir Medrash and Sir Balasar helped bring the Green Hands to justice. I’d be dead if they hadn’t.”

“The covert agents of a hostile power,” Zan-akar said, “must occasionally act against their own cause to conceal where their true allegiance lies.”

By now, Jhesrhi had spent enough time with dragonborn to learn how their reptilian faces worked, so she recognized it when Balasar sneered. “You seem more than knowledgeable about the techniques of spying and treachery,” the Tymantheran said.

Points of light crawled and sizzled along the silver cracks in the genasi’s skin. “I had to become knowledgeable to protect my people from the likes of you.”

“I’m curious,” Balasar said. “When all those sparks start falling off you, is that like a real person losing control of his bladder?”

“Enough!” Perra snapped. “Majesty, I apologize for my retainer’s lack of decorum.”

The war hero frowned and fingered one of the bits of symbolic armor adorning her jerkin. After a moment, she said, “It’s clear that we-” She broke off to peer at the back of the hall. Jhesrhi turned to see what had captured her attention.

One of the tall sandstone doors had opened. Looking as out of place as Jhesrhi felt among the finely dressed courtiers and heroic statuary, a disheveled soldier in spurred, muddy horseman’s boots advanced and bowed low before the throne.

“Rise,” Shala said. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Majesty,” the newcomer replied, stammering ever so slightly, “but the officer outside said I should. The pirates raided Samnur.” Jhesrhi had studied maps of Chessenta and knew that was a village on the coast. “But I don’t think they knew about the temple of Umberlee. The waveservants used their magic to help us soldiers fight, and we won.”

“That’s good news,” Shala said, “and it’s plain you rode hard to bring it. I’m grateful. But it could have waited until I finished my current business.”

“Excuse me, Majesty, but there’s more. There were dragonborn among the Imaskari.”

The courtiers babbled.

“Majesty,” Perra said, raising her voice to make it heard above the clamor, “I swear on the honor of Clan Ophinshtalajiir, the vanquisher would never allow such a thing.”

“Did the dragonborn have piercings?” Medrash asked, but the question got lost in the general din.

“Shut up!” Shala snapped, and the room quieted. She fixed her gaze on Perra. “You and your people will have to leave Luthcheq.”

Zan-akar somehow managed to keep his expression grave, but Jhesrhi suspected he was whooping with joy on the inside.

“Majesty,” Perra replied, “let me be very sure I understand you. You’re expelling us from Chessenta and breaking off relations with Tymanther?”

“I’m sending you away,” Shala said, “to avoid another riot when the city hears this news. For your own safety, in other words. I’ll have to ponder further to decide whether to sever ties with your kingdom.”

But with Zan-akar urging her to do precisely that, and no one left to speak for Tymanther, Jhesrhi figured she knew what decision the war hero would ultimately make.

Perra surely assumed the same, but maybe she also judged it would be impossible to change Shala’s mind. Because she simply bowed and said, “As Your Majesty commands.”

Resplendent in a new suit of silk and brocade, the candlelight glinting on his jeweled ornaments, Gaedynn related the story of the taking of the Dread Ring in Lapendrar. Apparently he’d done it more or less single-handedly, with every arrow piercing a vampire or some other undead horror through the heart.

It was a tale told on two levels. His comrades were meant to take it as a joke. The pretty young ladies seated to either side of him-Nicos’s nieces, or was it cousins?-were supposed to ooh and ah at his heroism, and they did.

Aoth was glad someone was enjoying the victory feast. Jhesrhi had begged off, as she often avoided such occasions. Khouryn grew quieter with every cup of Sembian red. Even their host seemed subdued.