“Well—mind, m’lady, this is just tales, but it’s tales I hear from their people—this lot is plain vicious.”

Besides forcing their attentions on the servants of their estates, it seemed that “Corby’s Crew” was given to so-called pranks that were very unfunny. A cut saddle-girth before a rough hunt was no joking matter, not when it nearly caused a death. And some of these same adolescents were the younger brothers and sisters of those who had tried to murder Talia.

But thus far—that anyone knew—Elspeth had not been a participant in any of their activities. It seemed that at the moment she was simply being paid elaborate court to—something new to her that she evidently found very enjoyable. But it could well be only a matter of time before they lured her into some indiscretion—then used that indiscretion to blackmail her into deeper participation.

Elspeth’s good sense had probably protected her so far, but Talia was worried that it might not be enough protection for very much longer.

This required active measures.

She tried to set a watch on the girl, but Elspeth was very clever and kept eluding her. She tried once or twice to read her with a surface probe, but Elspeth’s shields were better than Talia’s ability to penetrate without forcing her.

Something was going to have to be done, or among the three of them, Elspeth, Dirk, and Kris were going to drive her mad in white linen.

So she decided to try to do something about Dirk first, as being the easiest to get at—and since he wasn’t talking to Kris, the way to him was through her blood-brother Skif.

“I’m as baffled as you are, little sister,” Skif confessed, running a nervous hand through his dark curls, “I haven’t got the vaguest notion why Dirk’s making such an ass of himself.”

“Lord and Lady,” Talia moaned, rubbing her temple and collapsing onto an old chair in Skif’s room, “I’d hoped he’d have said something to you—you were my last hope! If this doesn’t clear up soon, I think I’m going to go rather noisily mad!”

When she had finally given up on trying to manage the problem of Dirk by herself, and had sought out Skifs s aid, he’d invited her up to his quarters. He’d been to hers a time or two, but this was the first time she’d seen his. Skif’s room was much like Skif himself; neat, decked with odd weapons and thick with books. Lately Talia hadn’t had much time to devote to picking her own rooms up, and she found his quarters a haven from chaos. He had only one window, but it looked out over Companion’s Field—always a tranquilizing view.