“Officially, being a tourist and lounging. Unofficially, watching the timing of things, listening, and judging why this place works at all. I’ve found some disturbing clues that tell me that it might not work at all, before long. The earth-shakes—you don’t seem to notice any but the large ones, probably because you are a lifetime horseman and you’re accustomed to jolts and rolls with every hoofstep. But I—I’ve had trouble sleeping here at all, and I figured out some of why. It isn’t just the strangeness of the surroundings. It’s that this City is always shaking.” He sat down beside Kordas. “This city has cracks in it. Every building and bridge, too. I’ve always had sharp eyes, so they stand out for me. Here.”

Beltran got up and went to the window, and pulled out his side-knife, chisel-pointed like Kordas’s, made for dining not fighting. “Here’s an example.” The trim around the window rocked half a thumb-width when Beltran pried at its edge. “This place is under constant repair,” he continued, “and everything in the Palace has been pointed and patched, and its seams painted. But that can only do so much.”

To illustrate the point, Beltran jammed the knife deeper under the window trim and pried with more force. The entire window trim broke away as one piece, showering plaster and stone dust, and then the window surround simply—fell off, clattering to the floor.

Clover spoke, “This is true. It did not seem important to mention this, amidst your other plans, as they already put you under such stress, my Lord.”

Kordas exhaled gustily. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Star said, “There are forces affecting the City and Palace that did not feel germaine to your plans, due to the time frame, but we can tell you more if you wish.”

Kordas sat up fully. “Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes sharp with that look his Herald knew well. It was the look of Kordas sensing opportunity. “But let’s have a look inside the Fabrication Annex first.”

—