Idrys had rarely looked so pleased with a situation.

“Well done,” Cefwyn said.

“My lord.”

“I think,” Cefwyn began, and nudged the brass kettle and last night’s tea water over last night’s coals to heat. He tossed on a few sticks of wood from the heap beside the hearth, while Idrys took up watch over him, arms folded. “I think that Heryn may seethe in his own juices a time. How long, do you think, is prudent?”

“Enough time to see Your Highness breakfasted and well sated with   tea.”

“Perhaps I shall invite him to breakfast.”

“Shall I relay that invitation, Your Highness?”

“Carry it yourself. He fears you.”

“Most gladly, my lord Prince.”

Idrys departed, and Cefwyn thoughtfully investigated the kettle of water, hesitating still, in the weariness of a long night, to call in the clatter and conversation of servants and pages.

But he rang the bell, and when Annas turned up from his bed nearby:

“Breakfast,” he ordered, “for myself and Heryn Aswydd. A guard will escort you, the cook, the pages, with every pot and every cup and source.

There is dissent and division afoot.”

“I shall take good care,” the old man murmured, “my lord Prince.”

Cefwyn went back to the wardrobe to revise his selection of clothing while Annas arranged an early cup of tea. Pages arrived, seeking use, and by their grace he bathed, merely an affair of a hot towel: the bath which he had left unused and cold still stood. Over his linen went bezainted leather, nothing approaching the two stones’ weight of the shirt he had worn on the ride to Emwy. It was for lighter weapons, the kind that came from close at hand, and it glittered with suitably decorative but martial effect.

It did sit well, at least, between the Amefin and a Marhanen heart.

The breakfast arrived in the hands of Annas, two senior guards and two pages; the maps were discreetly rolled—except the one for Emwy district, which he deliberately left in plainest view—and he had had the pages move the dining board into the sunlit alcove beneath the windows.

Annas provided them a simple meal and a hot one, easy to eat a quick sufficiency and end the meeting early; or, if he pleased, to linger over the breads and jams. Cefwyn settled into place at the table and waited, sipping at a cup of tea.

Shortly Idrys arrived with Heryn in tow, a sullen and scowling Heryn, who stopped and bowed at formal distance from the table while Idrys continued to the warm window-side, where he took up his station, arms folded, waiting.

Cefwyn rose, bowed, and gestured to the seat at the far end of the table. “Welcome, Your Grace.”

Heryn came to the offered seat, stood with his hands clenched on the back of the chair.

“Your Highness, —”

“Sit, sit down, Amefel. No doubt you have questions.”

“With armed guards—”

“You could not protect me, Your Grace. That Amefin patrols were in the area of Emwy I do take your word for, but I do think they would have regarded our displayed standards and my banner. I fear you have been misinformed on the nature of the attack at Emwy, which casts into doubt not you, of course, but certain assumptions. Therefore I’ve moved to secure the premises until we learn whether there has been compromise of your informers. Surely your own life is not secure. Trust my guards.

They are honest men.”

The color had utterly fled Heryn’s handsome face.

Cefwyn smiled, lips only, sure that Heryn took his double meaning.

“Sit, sit down. I assure you that this apartment is at least as secure as your own.”

Heryn sank into the chair, picked up the cup and carried it almost to his lips as Annas began to serve the breakfast. Heryn stopped in mid-sip with a look at him, guarded, terrified.

“Your health,” Cefwyn said, still smiling, lifted his cup and drank.

The sweat stood visible on Heryn’s face. And Cefwyn half-turned, looking at Idrys.  “Idrys.”

“Your Highness.”

“Any sign of the horses out of Emwy?”

“Aye, my lord, a few. The dun and three bays made their way back last night. Peasants brought them for reward, knowing the King’s mark.”

“You rewarded them.”

“Amply, my lord.”

“Excellent.” He looked at Heryn and divided up a sausage. “It’s clear that the general countryside still has reverence for the Crown.”

“I would assure Your Highness so,” Heryn said.

“Our patrols will be searching the country round about very thoroughly. We wish to find that bandit group and question them.”

“I would have thought all your men were on duty here,” Heryn said bitterly, while the sausage went down quite well. “So many in the halls.”

“I assure you, it’s to your own advantage that the Crown should take direct responsibility for my welfare. The cost to the town for losing the Marhanen heir would be bloody and extreme, and—regrettable as it might be, and no matter your efforts—there would be that certain cost to pay. His Majesty and I have quarreled, but the depth of our quarrel is vastly exaggerated. Vastly. Marhanens may quarrel with each other.

Attack us—and he is head of our house.”  “I assure Your Highness—”

“Oh, we do believe your efforts might well succeed. But I refuse to put that manner of responsibility on this province and on you, Amefel. The Guelen are seasoned men. They know the extent of their duty, and they’ll stand their posts indefinitely, until we are sure the persons responsible have been hunted out and hanged. —Sausage, Your Grace?”

Annas made a trip to Heryn’s end of the table, but Heryn took only bread.

“Your Highness,” Heryn said, “surely your personal guard will be under hardship. I assure you my own men are sufficient for myself. You might at least relieve the ones at my door—”

“I will not hear of it. The welfare of this province is my special concern. My guards stay.” He filled his mouth with bread and honey and ate, enjoying the breakfast. “Amefin honey. I shall send some to my father with personal recommendation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Heryn murmured, although he seemed to have difficulty breathing, let alone eating.

“You must not take the issue so to heart. You have done your best to guard me. Now I shall do mine. —Do you not care for the bread, Lord Heryn?”

Heryn gathered up the knife and his knuckles were white on the handle as he dipped into the butter.

“I have,” Idrys said, “set Anwyll to watching Tarien and Sergeant Gedd to Orien’s door.”

Cefwyn smiled grimly. Anwyll was immovable, and Gedd was by his preference immune to Orien and all her servants.

“I’ve made certain promises of liberal reward among the ranks, m’lord Prince,” Idrys added, “once this period of double watch is safely carried.

The men are in excellent spirits on that account.”

“Promise it on my authority.” Cefwyn gathered up his sword and buckled it on. “I will see that reward paid.”

“Where are you going, m’lord Prince?”

“To see to our guest.”

Idrys’ frown was instant. Cefwyn started to the doors, and Idrys shadowed him past the guards and into the hall.

“Be rid of this ill-omened guest,” Idrys said. “Send him to Emuin’s retreat. Send him to the Quinalt in Guelessar, if you ask my advice in this matter, m’lord.”

“Not in this.”

“I wish you would wait for Emuin’s arrival.”

“You have mentioned that.” He had glanced at Idrys as he walked out the door of his apartments. He looked back, and stopped in what he purposed to say next. There was but one pair of guards at Tristen’s door.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded of those men. “Where are the other two?”

“Gone wi’ him, Your Highness,” said one man. “Wi’ Uwen.”

“He waked.”

“Natural as morning, Your Highness, and ate breakfast and left.”

“I left word to wake me!”

“You had a guest, Your Highness. We was told not to interrupt.”

“Damn.” He was aware of Idrys watching and forbore to scatter blame for what were doubtless contradictory instructions. “Where did he go?”