Rinko Higata had been captain of the Sackett debate team when Lillian matriculated: a woman of unbending will channeled through poise as even as a perfectly weighted blade. She’d gone on to study law, and made quite a name for herself, but left Amberlough for Inorugara when the Ospies made Gedda … inhospitable. She was back now, and taking on charity cases.

“None, I’m afraid. I didn’t think she’d be able to help much, but at least she would have been free.”

All of Lillian’s assets had mysteriously evaporated after she fled Porachis. There were no records to prove it had all gone into Ospie pockets, but that was where she’d hoped to bring in legal aid. Rinko specialized in white-collar criminal defense and was a sorceress with financial paper trails, but where all evidence had been destroyed, she could not fit a wedge in.

“And the committee meeting?” Magnusson, a consummate professional even under budgetary constraints, produced a silver tray—slightly dented—and a glass of whiskey, neat. Filling the library might be an extravagance, but the bar was a medicinal necessity.

“A dogfight, as you might expect. Bihaz isn’t sure it’s a good idea to invite Makricosta to the dedication—thinks it draws too much attention back to … awkward rumors. Distracts from the solemn purpose of the event. And Miles is still arguing against the whole enterprise, though it’s a bit late now.”

“And Ms. Simons?”

“Honora?” Another school friend, who’d ridden out the Ospies playing nice and smiling at parties, giving what money she could spare to innocuous charities who funneled half of it to the Catwalk. “She apologized for Miles’s behavior very nicely once he’d left the room.” Lillian put away half her whiskey and sighed. “Bags packed?”

“And everyone else on their way for the weekend.”

“Shouldn’t you have gone and left Bern?”

“Ma’am,” said Magnusson. “I apologize if I overstepped, but Mr. Addas is likely to benefit from a footman’s services more than mine, with Ms. Wilce there to see to the house.”

“You wanted time to read,” she said, and was rewarded with a faint blush high on his gaunt cheeks. It was perhaps a trifle familiar, but adversity seemed to spawn that kind of thing.

Magnusson was a Geddan expatriate who’d married an Asunan woman early in his life and been widowed early, too. He spoke the language fluently and had been a boon to them; worth every cent they couldn’t afford when they arrived in Sunho. By the time they left they had been doing well enough: Lillian as the director of public relations for the Sunho offices of Camden Standard Trade, and Jinadh as the assistant culture editor at the Asunan branch of Siebenthal’s. Working themselves nearly to death, yes, but they could pay Magnusson to keep their house.