“I found these beggars wandering the grounds,” called Foscar, “and thought I’d commend them to your charity, Father!”

“Charity?” Orso’s sharp voice echoed around the cavernous room. “I am not a great admirer of the stuff. Make yourselves comfortable, my friends, I will be with you shortly.”

“If it isn’t the Butcher of Caprile,” murmured Ario, “and her little Benna too.”

“Your Highness. You look well.” Monza thought he looked an indolent cock, but kept it to herself.

“You too, as ever. If all soldiers looked as you did, I might even be tempted to go on campaign myself. A new bauble?” Ario waved his own jewel-encrusted hand limply towards the ruby on Monza’s finger.

“Just what was to hand when I was dressing.”

“I wish I’d been there. Wine?”

“Just after dawn?”

He glanced heavy-lidded towards the windows. “Still last night as far as I’m concerned.” As if staying up late was a heroic achievement.

“I will.” Benna was already pouring himself a glass, never to be outdone as far as showing off went. Most likely he’d be drunk within the hour and embarrass himself, but Monza was tired of playing his mother. She strolled past the monumental fireplace held up by carven figures of Juvens and Kanedias, and towards Orso’s desk.

“Sign here, and here, and here,” the gaunt man was saying, one bony finger hovering over the documents.

“You know Mauthis, do you?” Orso gave a sour glance in his direction. “My leash-holder.”

“Always your humble servant, your Excellency. The Banking House of Valint and Balk agrees to this further loan for the period of one year, after which they regret they must charge interest.”

Orso snorted. “As the plague regrets the dead, I’ll be bound.” He scratched out a parting swirl on the last signature and tossed down his pen. “Everyone must kneel to someone, eh? Make sure you extend to your superiors my infinite gratitude for their indulgence.”

“I shall do so.” Mauthis collected up the documents. “That concludes our business, your Excellency. I must leave at once if I mean to catch the evening tide for Westport—”

“No. Stay a while longer. We have one other matter to discuss.”

Mauthis’ dead eyes moved towards Monza, then back to Orso. “As your Excellency desires.”

The duke rose smoothly from his desk. “To happier business, then. You do bring happy news, eh, Monzcarro?”

“I do, your Excellency.”

“Ah, whatever would I do without you?” There was a trace of iron grey in his black hair since she’d seen him last, perhaps some deeper lines at the corners of his eyes, but his air of complete command was impressive as ever. He leaned forwards and kissed her on both cheeks, then whispered in her ear, “Ganmark can lead soldiers well enough, but for a man who sucks cocks he hasn’t the slightest sense of humour. Come, tell me of your victories in the open air.” He left one arm draped around her shoulders and guided her, past the sneering Prince Ario, through the open windows onto the high terrace.