He nodded warily, but might have prevaricated, except that in that unguarded instant, Kantor simply edged into his mind and showed him what it was that Dethor and Talamir wanted him to do.

“Agent” was too small a word to encompass the task.

In fact, Alberich was more uniquely suited to the job than even Dethor had been, because of his foreign origin. There were places where Dethor would always stand out—because Dethor was nobly-born for all that he pretended he was common. What you’d been born and bred to was difficult to hide, especially when you were under stress. But Alberich was as common as clay, and used to moving in the lowest of circles. Under stress, he slipped into that world as easily as a bottomfish slipping into the muddy river bottom.

Mostly, Dethor had collected information—in the Court and out of it, from the servants’ common room in the Palace, to the vilest alleys near Exile’s Gate, to the scented rooms where courtiers fenced with words.

Mostly—but a time or two, Dethor had done more than collect intelligence and pass it on to Talamir. A so-called “agent” who was also a Herald had an extraordinary degree of freedom to act as he saw fit, and once, Dethor had used his knowledge of traps to cause a single fatal “accident.”

And he had agonized over that murder, for murder it was, and never mind that the man had been the hidden heart of a vile trade and no one had been or would be able to bring him to justice. Dethor had murdered and knew it, and still agonized over it.

:As you would. As you would act, if there was no other way, and you would be decisive about it.:

Yes, he would, on both counts. But although he would regret murder, for he hated killing, he would not allow such a thing to ride him with guilt afterward. He felt his pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat, and his collar felt too tight. Yes, he would. Some things had to be done—and was it better to stain innocent hands with blood, or add one more stain to the sleeve of one already steeped in it?

The King could have “agents” like the Lord Marshal had, men who would take their orders and carry them out, and leave the question of whether the orders were morally justified to someone else. The King did not want that. He wanted a Herald; he wanted someone who did not simply take orders. He wanted someone who would think—weigh—and act. And agonize over it afterwards perhaps… because there would be that necessary question when it was all over.