"Only two?"

"Two thousand, but these are uppermost. One is that my roving court needs a royal seneschal: a competent and experienced officer, preferably one who knows this area, to direct my travels and secure my person."

His brows twitched up, encouragingly.

"The other is that Marshal dy Palliar will need an experienced intelligencer, an officer who knows Jokona and the Jokonans better than any other, who speaks and writes both court and vile Roknari, possessing trunks full of maps and charts and ground plans, to advise his strategies in this region. I greatly fear that these are two mutually exclusive posts."

He touched one finger thoughtfully to his lips. "I might mention, it has occurred independently to several military minds here that any army presently wishing to march north would be very, very happy to possess a cure for sorcerers, to carry close at hand. Should any further enemy sorcerers be encountered on this campaign. Resources devoted to the protection of such a sorceress-saint would not be considered wasted. So the saint's seneschal and the marshal's intelligencer might not find themselves working so far apart as all that."

Ista's brows rose. "Hm? Perhaps ... If it is clearly understood that the saint serves not Chalion, not even the Temple, but the god, and must go as the god directs. Alongside the marshal's tents for a time, but not in them. Well, well, dy Cazaril will understand that part; and I think he could drill it into dy Palliar's head if anyone could."

He stared thoughtfully up the valley road. "A week, you think, till they arrive?"

"Ten days at most."

"Huh." His long fingers rattled the keys at his belt. "Meantime ... I actually walked over here to invite you to take rooms within Castle Porifors again, now we are in slightly better order. If you wish. The weather's due to change, judging by the wind; we may have a bit of welcome rain by tomorrow night."

"Not Umerue's old chamber, I trust."

"No, we've lodged Prince Sordso and his watchers there."

"Nor Cattilara's."

"Dy Caribastos and his retinue have taken over that whole gallery." He cleared his throat. "I was thinking of the ones you had before. Across from mine. Although ... I fear there is not enough space to also house all of your ladies."

Ista managed not to grin, or at least not too broadly. "Thank you, Lord Illvin; I should be pleased."

His dark eyes sparked. His hand-kissing technique was definitely improving with practice, she thought.

ISTA SENT HER RESTORED RAIMENT FROM VALENDA ON AHEAD, EVEN minus all the staid selections in widow's green that she left in her brother's tents, she would be spared living in borrowed clothing henceforth. A little later, dy Baocia escorted her from his camp. Foix attended, guardsman handily making a smooth transition to courtier.

Dy Baocia's transition was a little less smooth, but on the whole he seemed to be managing the leap to the new Ista reasonably well, she thought. He avoided discussing the disturbing part about eating demons, seldom mentioned the god, but he'd entered into the material practicalities of her new vocation with gratifying attention to detail.

"We must determine the size of your personal guard," he remarked as they passed under Porifors's gates. "Too many will be a drain on your purse, but too few could prove a false economy."

"Very true. My needs will, I expect, vary with my locale. Add it to your list to discuss with my seneschal; he'll be the best judge of what this region requires."

"Will your seneschal also serve as your master of horse, as he did for his late brother? Or shall I recommend you a man?"

"Ser dy Arbanos's duties will be too demanding. I have another man in mind, though I'm not sure yet if he will accept. I may return for your recommendation, if not."

"What, not dy Gura, here?" dy Baocia inquired. Foix gave a little agreeable bow. "Or his good brother?"

"Ferda is claimed for the coming campaign by his cousin, Marshal dy Palliar, and must be off to join him shortly. Even as an officer of my household, Foix will likely do considerable traveling back and forth on Temple business; but a horse-master's tasks are daily. I am not sure what title I shall offer Foix. Royal Sorcerer? Master of Demons?"

"I should be perfectly content to retain officer-dedicat, Royina," Foix put in hastily, sounding slightly alarmed, then narrowing his eyes in suspicion at her primly pursed lips.

"I shall find you the work first, and the title later, then," she said. "You'll need something to swagger with, when we visit other courts, to keep up the expected royal hauteur on my behalf."

A grin flitted over his mouth. "As you command, Royina."

They turned into the stone court and mounted to the gallery, Ista controlled a shiver, passing up the steps on which she'd once faced a god. From the open door of her double chamber, a familiar but unexpected voice floated.

"She doesn't want you," Lady dy Hueltar said severely. "She doesn't need you. I am here now, and I assure you, I am far better acquainted with all her requirements than you will ever be. So just you run along back to the stables, or wherever you came from. Out, out!"

"Madam, it cannot be so," said Liss in a puzzled tone.

Foix's brows climbed, then drew back down, darkly. Ista motioned him to patience and shouldered within, the men following.

"What is this argument?" Ista inquired.

Colored spots flared on Lady dy Hueltar's cheeks; she hesitated, then drew in her breath. "I was just explaining to this rude girl here that now you are done with that rash pilgrimage, dear Ista, you will be requiring a more befitting lady-in-waiting again. Not a girl groom."

"On the contrary, I need Liss very much."

"She isn't suited to be lady-in-waiting to a royina. She's not even a lady!"

Liss scratched her head. "Well, that's true enough. I'm not much good at waiting, either. I'm better at riding very fast."

Ista smiled. "Indeed." Her smile tightened a little, as she considered the scene she'd interrupted. Had Lady dy Hueltar actually imagined she might trick or drive Liss off, send her away believing herself dismissed?

Lady dy Hueltar made a little nervous gesture, under Ista's cool gaze. "Now that you are calmer, Lady Ista, surely it is time we began to think of returning safely to Valenda. Your good brother here will lend us a more adequate escort for the return journey, I'm sure."

"I'm not going back to Valenda. I'm going to follow the army into Jokona to hunt demons for the Bastard," said Ista. "Safety has little to do with the god's chores." Her lips curved up, but it was scarcely a smile anymore. "Has no one explained anything to you yet, dear Lady dy Hueltar?"

"I did," said Liss. "Several times." She lowered her voice to Ista. "It's all right. I had a great-aunt who grew very confused in her age like this, poor thing."

"I am not," Lady dy Hueltar began in rising tones, then stopped. She started again. "It's much too dangerous. I beg you to reconsider, dear Ista. My lord dy Baocia—as the head of the family now, it's your place to insist she be more sensible!"

"Actually," Ista noted, "he's been head of the family for a decade and a half."

Dy Baocia snorted, and muttered under his breath, "Aye—anyplace in Baocia but Valenda ..."

Ista took Lady dy Hueltar's hand and set it firmly on her brother's arm. "I'm sure you're very tired, dear lady, to have ridden so far, so fast, for so little need. But my brother will see you safely on your way back home tomorrow—or possibly tonight."

"I have already moved my things here—"

Ista cast an eye at the piles of luggage. "The servants will move them back. I will speak with you more later, dy Baocia." With a few more not terribly gentle hints, Ista maneuvered them both out the door. Her last hope of support from dy Baocia failing, Lady dy Hueltar moved off with him in a cloud of mutual exasperation, looking very crushed.