“He is a powerful sorcerer. From the tales I’ve heard, though, he must have changed much over the centuries. In those days, before the Free City had its charter, Juring Tarness was a great general. He defended the kingdom against the elves and then against the dwarves, who had better weapons and impregnable fortresses all through this land. Hazoth turned the tide in that conflict, as the dwarves had no sorcerers of their own and could not resist his magic. Hazoth was hailed as a great hero, and Juring a protector of the realm.”

“I saw the campaign banners hanging in his tower room, when I took the crown,” Malden said, thinking hard. “A great leader of men, was he?”

“Juring? Oh, yes. They say his voice had the power to compel. It was not magic, I think, but sheer force of character.”

“So anyone he spoke to would be inspired to follow his orders. Interesting.” Malden was beginning to put together a few facts, but so far he had no conclusions. He made a mental note to revisit the idea again.

Croy’s voice had a note of the highest admiration as he said, “Juring was a born ruler, and yet he served his king faithfully. When he founded the city, he proved—as is not often the case—to be as good a statesman as he was a warrior. The king of that era asked him what reward he would choose for his service. Juring could have had anything—riches, a grand fief, a personal army. Instead he requested freedom for the people of Ness. They had supported him through a long and trying campaign, you see. A time of great suffering for his army. He used his reward to give them perpetual safety from taxes and bondservice. The freedom you now possess is only guaranteed by the charter he asked the king to sign. In fact—”

“Hold,” Malden said.

Down in the market, Cythera had arrived. She was dressed in a fine purple velvet cloak and moved listlessly from stall to stall, barely fingering the cloth on display. She was followed by one of Hazoth’s retainers, a sallow-faced man with a chain-mail shirt and an axe on his belt. He pushed a barrow to hold her purchases, but his eyes were watching the crowd, perhaps searching every face for sign of threat.

“I hoped she would come alone,” Malden said. The plan had been to draw her into some secluded bystreet, and there converse with her in private. It was crucial she not be seen talking with either him or Croy, as word of such a meeting would doubtless get back to Hazoth. “All right,” he said. “This will just take a bit of cunning. Follow me down.”