Why was he thinking this way? He was a soldier. Halvor was a traitor. That circumstance had flipped her back and forth across that line wasn’t supposed to matter. Smart thing to do would be to walk away, maybe even report to Makrov. Problem was, there were two kinds of loyalty in the world. One to the rule-makers and the other to comrades. The one was not equal to the other. Couldn’t be, could it? Or he’d have seized the retirement Akadra had offered him after Zanya, taken a steward’s position with a noble family and lived the easy life.

Slippery slope, friendship. Might even tempt a man to treason. Still, treachery was the Southshires’ perennial crop. Maybe there was something in the air . . .

“What would Katya have done?” asked Ardel.

“She’d have looked for another way forward,” said Halvor. “But I don’t see one. It took years to gather support. It’s all gone. They’re all gone.”

“Not entirely,” said Kurkas. “Didn’t you tell me they’d taken the duke’s doxy back up to Branghall?”

Halvor raised her head and fixed him with a scowl. “Her name is Anastacia.”

He stifled a smile, glad to see a little fire in her eyes, but knowing better than to say so. “Didn’t say it wasn’t. Point is, I’ve still got my ward-brooch, and I’m betting you’ve still got yours. If you’re lacking for inspiration, I’ll warrant she’s an idea or two.”

“What if Anastacia’s not there? What if Makrov’s had the enchantment altered?”

“Reckon he’s been too busy for that. Not a man for details, our archi-mandrite.” Kurkas shrugged. “And if he has? Well, I shouldn’t rightly say this, what with you being a traitor and all, but my mother set a lot of store by retribution. If Anastacia’s beyond reach, you might find Makrov pleasingly close to hand.”

Reluctance sharpened to suspicion. “And you’d stand by and watch while I ripped out his fat throat?”

“Madam, please!” Kurkas scratched at his eyepatch. “I’m a soldier of the Republic. Moreover, I do have some finer feelings. I’d turn around first.”

She laughed her acceptance. Kurkas shook his head and wondered again about what it was about the Southshires that tempted honest souls to treason.

The dray cart’s reins hung loose in Revekah’s hands. She hadn’t wanted to take the cart at all – the only thing worse than walking in the rain was sitting in it – but Ardel had insisted. And it wasn’t as though Kurkas could have made the journey on foot. Glib remarks about Lumestra’s holy crutches aside, the man still had as much trouble walking as keeping his fool mouth shut.