He and Tanni performed scenes from several plays, and were rewarded with small gifts and much applause.

“Wonderful!” Duchess Nerian exclaimed, giving Tanni her silk and ivory fan.

“I told you they are the best in the city,” said Duke Laneus, gifting Atre with a fine gold chain.

“You weren’t exaggerating their skills,” the general said, eyeing Tanni in a rather unpleasant way. “Pity the trials of war have kept me so busy as not to see them in the theater.”

“Are you home from the front, my lord?” asked Atre, interested to meet another powerful personage.

“Oh, no,” the general replied. “I’m the Protector General, second to Prince Korathan himself in the defense of the Palace and city. This is my front in the war.”

“Please, go and refresh yourselves in the kitchen,” Laneus told the actors, as if it were an honor rather than the treatment one would give to a mountebank or tradesman.

Atre covered his annoyance with another smile and allowed a servant to lead them to the back of the house, where the cook, to her credit, offered them a very fine venison pie and excellent wine. Still—in the kitchen!

While they were eating the cook and her scullion took their leave for the night, leaving them alone. Atre saw a chance and took it.

“You stay here,” he told Tanni, patting her arm. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just to look in on our host and thank him for this fine repast.”

He gave her a wink and retraced his way to the salon. Finding the corridor deserted, he put his ear to the door.

“I don’t mean to offend, Malthus, but I begin to doubt your faith,” the fat general was saying.

“Just because I won’t go along with out-and-out murder?” Malthus replied. His voice was soft, but the actor could still hear the anger that edged his words. “Tell me, my friends: are we seriously contemplating that?”

Atre’s eyes widened. This was not at all the sort of conversation he’d expected. He held his breath and put his eye to the thin opening between the door and frame. Malthus was on his feet, pacing, while the others sipped their wine.

“A quick slice makes for the most successful surgery,” Duchess Nerian noted, swirling the wine in her cup. “We can’t simply ask Phoria to step aside, now can we?”

“And then there’s Elani to be dealt with, after that,” Duke Zymir said. A chill ran up Atre’s spine, thinking of the gracious young girl. If anyone was going to claim her life, it was going to be him! Anything else would be a ridiculous waste.

“Not if she were to have an unfortunate accident or illness,” Zymir replied. “Now that they’ve chosen to attack Klia herself!”

“The message said it was Plenimaran assassins,” said Malthus.