“These are wasteful times.” Shenkt took the little lump of wood from his pocket, dog’s head already roughly carved into the front.

“Aren’t they all? Wine? It is from Cantain’s own cellar.”

“No.”

Shenkt worked carefully with his knife while the general filled his own glass, woodchips scattering across the floor between his boots, the hindquarters of the dog slowly taking shape. Hardly a work of art like those around him, but it would serve. There was something calming in the regular movements of the curved blade, in the gentle fluttering down of the shavings.

Ganmark leaned against the mantel, drew out the poker and gave the fire a few unnecessary jabs. “You have heard of Monzcarro Murcatto?”

“The captain general of the Thousand Swords. A most successful soldier. I heard she was dead.”

“Can you keep a secret, Shenkt?”

“I keep many hundreds.”

“Of course you do. Of course.” He took a long breath. “Duke Orso ordered her death. Hers and her brother’s. Her victories had made her popular in Talins. Too popular. His Excellency feared she might usurp his throne, as mercenaries can do. You are not surprised?”

“I have seen every kind of death, and every kind of motive.”

“Of course you have.” Ganmark frowned at the fire. “This was not a good death.”

“None of them are.”

“Still. This was not a good one. Two months ago Duke Orso’s bodyguard vanished. No great surprise, he was a foolish man, took little care over his safety, was prone to vice and bad company and had made many enemies. I thought nothing of it.”

“And?”

“A month later, the duke’s banker was poisoned in Westport, along with half his staff. This was a different matter. He took a very great deal of care over his safety. To poison him was a task of the greatest difficulty, carried out with a formidable professionalism and an exceptional lack of mercy. But he dabbled widely in the politics of Styria, and the politics of Styria is a fatal game with few merciful players.”

“True.”

“Valint and Balk themselves suspected a long enmity with Gurkish rivals might be the motive.”

“Valint and Balk.”

“You are familiar with the institution?”

Shenkt paused. “I believe they employed me once. Go on.”

“But now Prince Ario, murdered.” The general pushed one fingertip under his ear. “Stabbed in the very spot in which he stabbed Benna Murcatto, then thrown down from a high window?”

“You think Monzcarro Murcatto is still alive?”

“A week after his son’s death, Duke Orso received a letter. From one Carlot dan Eider, Prince Ario’s mistress. We had long suspected she was here to spy for the Union, but Orso tolerated the affair.”

“Surprising.”

Ganmark shrugged. “The Union is our confirmed ally. We helped them win the latest round of their endless wars against the Gurkish. We both enjoy the backing of the Banking House of Valint and Balk. Not to mention the fact that the King of the Union is Orso’s son-in-law. Naturally we send each other spies, by way of neighbourly good manners. If one must entertain a spy, she might as well be a charming one, and Eider was, undeniably, charming. She was with Prince Ario in Sipani. After his death she disappeared. Then the letter.”