Star shook its head. “No,” it said. “Not this evening. Tonight you play the Great Game with your peers. One of us three will attend you as your servant. Your companion will dine here, unless you wish him to attend as well.”

That set him back a moment. “What are the advantages to him attending?” he asked.

“A set of eyes and ears that will be virtually invisible. He is merely your Herald and Secretary. No one will address him or take notice of him.”

“And disadvantages?” he persisted.

“That you might be weak enough to believe you need him with you. That you have some bonds of affection to him.”

Hmm. The second is an acute disadvantage for a first impression. Maybe later. “I’ll leave him here, then.”

“Good. This will give the ones below the time to make new garments for him as well.” The Doll gestured at the bed. “Please select garments, my lord Duke, and this one will assist you.”

He hadn’t actually believed that he was going to need assistance merely to get dressed, but the Doll had not exaggerated. The breeches, boots, and coat in particular were so closely fitted to his body that if they had not been cut in some fashion that allowed for a great deal of “give,” it would have been like being strapped up in tight bandages. And he’d have had to dislocate a shoulder to get into the coat.

He had to admit to preening a bit in front of the mirror, though, when he was dressed. He looked positively splendid.

And . . . yes, in the clothing he’d brought with him, he’d have looked . . . sloppy. The difference between these garments and the ones he’d brought was like the difference between the ones he’d brought and the ones he’d helped birth the foal wearing.

He paused when the Doll held up the baldric, sword, and Spitter, though, with its beautifully made Valdemar badge.

“Are those necessary?” he asked.

“They are symbols of rank, my Lord,” Star said patiently.

He sighed.

—