“According to law, Your Grace, in the king’s name, I did so. And they are consequently extremely safe.”

“The king sent me here and you are no longer viceroy.”

“Still a king’s officer, Your Grace.”

“Captain Anwyll.” With a motion of his hand he requested Anwyll’s account, which he had warned Anwyll he must give, and Anwyll came from the door to stand at the side of the steps.

“Your Grace, his lordship took charge of the prisoners. I advised his lordship of Your Grace’s orders to have them under guard…”

“Dare you say so!” Parsynan cried. “I received no such advisement! I executed traitorsaccording to the king’s law, and dare any man, noble or commonborn, say they were not traitors? I will notbe slandered here! I have His Majesty’s summons to return to the capital, and that will I, withmy escort!”

“ Whosewere the jewels?” Tristen asked.

“Given me in gift, Your Grace!”

“You may have a horse and a man to go with you, sir, and when the wagons come I will send your belongings to you.”

“You send a king’s officer out in the night, as if I were some servant?”

“As you were prepared to go, sir, exceptthe jewelry, about which I will make inquiry. And you may not slander a king’s captain, either.”

“I am not under your orders! And I will not be dismissed in this manner or with such implied accusations!”

“Nothing is implied. You arein Henas’amef, sir, and the daylight is coming. There were three townsmen swept up in your killing. These were innocent men supporting me, sir. I advise you go, and go now, before the sun rises!”

The man hesitated, perhaps the space of two breaths, but it seemed forever. Leave without a word, Tristen wished him; and the anger snapped like a bent branch. Parsynan bent his head in scant courtesy, backed, bowed, turned and left, in strictest propriety.

“M’lord,” Uwen said faintly at his shoulder, and leaned just a little lower, in the privacy of a hall vacant of all but guardsmen. “M’lord, I beg ye don’t wish him ill. There’d be rumors run riot if he slipped on the steps outside, rumors run riot in Amefel, and no end of trouble for us all.”

Uwen had never before given him such a caution against malice. Perhaps Uwen saw the anger that had risen in him. But Emuin had said to him…

Emuinhad said to him…

He drew a deep breath and let it go. He had not thought of Emuin. He had not thought of Emuin in hours. Or asked advice.

There was confusion now in the gray place. He felt it on the instant he so much as wondered how things stood there, and he retreated in a heartbeat, resolved not to resort to that place again until he felt things far quieter than they were. The gods’ orderly world was sliding, bits and pieces as yet unsettled as to what order they would soon assume, and he stayed the timbers where he could, shored up others in hopes of achieving his own design, all with the sense of limited time in which to do so.

Young Crissand was not dead. Crissand’s men had snatched him from the Guelen Guard who had taken him, and they had defended him to the last, but many, many of Crissand’s household and the men of his district were dead as a result. And as he had told Lord Parsynan, so were the three brave townsmen who had tried to intervene, though by the viceroy’s sole mercy other townsfolk who had rushed in to fight the rebels had been put out of the courtyard before the killing, and the Amefin lords, too, had been shut in the stable-court for their protection.

Parsynan would take his advice and go. That left him with the destruction to deal with, but not the destroyer.

And count among the ruin Parsynan had wrought the damaged reputation of the company of Guelen Guard, the town garrison. They had obeyed orders and carried out the slaughter. Anwyll advised him, and Uwen agreed, that he should send only a token of that regiment with Parsynan, reminding him that he had no direct order to reduce the garrison and that Cefwyn would not take it amiss.

So while some few more of that unit must go back to Guelessar to guard Parsynan’s belongings when the wagons came, the rest should remain. Men who had been used in such an act needed to recover themselves and their honor, so said Anwyll and Uwen both, and could do it best here, where they would not have to deal with Parsynan’s wrenching the facts of the case aside from the truth or persuading them the orders had ever been honorable. There was nothing the Guelens could take pride in after this, save only if another lord could give them some distinction, one that would wipe out the shame they had now, and Parsynan was not the lord to do it.

Anwyll spoke eloquently for the Guelen Guard; but the shame was not only in the Guelen Guard, who evaded the eyes of men of the Dragon, but in Captain Anwyll, himself, as Tristen saw it. Anwyll had been caught unprepared, had not refused Parsynan’s confiscating the prisoners, and now and forever rued the moment he had obeyed a king’s officer instead of the duke of Amefel. Once Anwyll had ceded the prisoners to Parsynan, with no idea what Parsynan intended, he could not have prevented the massacre without leading Dragon against Guelen Guard, an action that would have had only blame for the lowly captain and a scant reprimand for the lord who had behaved as Parsynan had. So no one had come off with clean hands, and two regiments of Cefwyn’s Guard had had to meet at swords’ point.

That was Parsynan’s work tonight. No Guelenman had been killed, but the deed was there, and the entire Guelen army might never be the same as if it had never happened… while Amefin blood was shed even before the slaughter in the courtyard.

And for all these reasons the day and the new rule in Amefel would dawn less bright than it might have done. Given his private choice of what to do now, Tristen thought, he would go see to his horses, take account of the men he personally knew, find a cup of water that did not come from Lady Orien’s cupboard and a bed in which she had not slept… or sit anywhere but in this hall letting guilty men go free and dealing with those he had provoked.

But along with the power the new duke of Amefel had to dismiss everything and take those comforts by decree, he found himself obliged. He had watched Cefwyn, in utmost weariness and at any hour, gather himself up and attend what duty wanted attending, and now he knew Cefwyn had given him what neither Mauryl nor Emuin could give him: the model of a lord of men. So he knew what he had to do while he had the strength to hold up his head.

But, but, with that sense of obligation came a temptation in which Mauryl and Emuin hadtaught him, with a strong sense of fear… he sorely wished to have done thus, and thus, and so to have prevented all the ill that had happened this night. He wished he could go back to that moment on the East Court steps and not have given the prisoners to Anwyll to escort. He regretted… and unlike Uwen and Anwyll, or any man not a wizard, he had a power to reach into the gray space, where moments might be all moments. He saw deaths at his feet, and knew he could seek back into the gray space, revisit that moment—not to change what ultimately had happened, but to gain a vantage much like his clear view from that hilltop in Guelessar, a chance to stand again on that step on the East Court, and to see himself, and Anwyll… but more importantly, see the doings in the gray place in that moment as well.

Then he might see what influences had been at work.

He might go back. That was always the temptation. He might walk that Road he had walked from Marna, do what could be done in the gray space, where moments defined themselves differently and where all roads were the same Road.

And would he? Dared he? More to the point, hadhe… or would he ever?

And had he at any moment on the east steps felt the skin on his arms prickle and the hair rise on his nape? In such a way one felt a visitor from after the event… the way he had met a shadow in the woods, once, on his way to the world of Men, a shadow which had been himself, wiser, going back on a Road fraught with peril.