“That’s better,” Benjamin said after a moment, so calmly it was almost shocking. “I understand your hesitation, Howard. Indeed, I expected it—which is the very reason I was trying to ‘prepare’ you, as you put it. But you wouldn’t be ‘usurping’ anything. Tester, Howard! How many other men on Grayson have given the Sword half—even a tenth!—of the service you have? You’re the best possible choice from almost every perspective. You’ve earned any honor I could bestow upon you in your own right, and you were Lady Harrington’s Regent and the de facto Steadholder whenever her naval duty took her off-planet. She trusted you, and you know exactly what her plans and hopes were—who else can say that? And she loved you, Howard.” Benjamin’s voice softened, and a suspicious brightness glistened in Clinkscales’ eye before the old man looked away. “I can’t think of another man on Grayson whom she would rather have succeed her and look after her people for her.”

“I—” Clinkscales began, only to stop and draw another deep breath. He kept his face turned away for several seconds, then made his eyes come back to meet his Protector’s.

“You may be right,” he said very quietly. “About how she felt, I mean. And I would gladly have ’looked after her people for her’ to my dying day, Benjamin. But please don’t ask this of me. Please.”

“But, Howard—” Prestwick began persuasively, only to stop as Clinkscales raised a hand, silencing him with a gesture, and met Benjamin’s gaze with infinite dignity.

“You are my Protector, Benjamin. I honor and respect you, and I will obey you in all lawful things, as is my duty. But please don’t ask this of me. You said she loved me, and I hope she did, because the Intercessor knows I loved her, too. She was like a daughter to me, and I could never take her place, carry her Key, any more than a father can inherit from his son. Don’t ask me to do that. It would be… wrong.”

Silence hovered once more, and then Benjamin cleared his throat.

“Would you consider staying on as Regent, at least?”

“I would—so long as I was sure you weren’t trying to ease me into something else,” Clinkscales said, and Benjamin looked at Prestwick.

“Henry? Would that work?”

“In the short term, Your Grace?” The chancellor pursed his lips once more. “Probably, yes. But in the long term?” He shook his head and held out both hands, palms uppermost, as he turned to Clinkscales. “If you don’t formally accept the Key, then all we’ve done is defer the crisis, Howard. That by itself would probably be worthwhile, of course. If we could hold it off for another ten years or so, perhaps some of the tension would ease. We might not even have Haven and the war to worry about any longer. But until we have a legal, known, and accepted successor to the Harrington Key, this entire uncertainty will simply be hovering over our heads, waiting. And, forgive me, Howard, but you’re not a young man, and ten years—”