“Indeed,” Dorrin said. “That is what I meant when I said I wanted to accept new settlers, good farmers if I can get them. Verrakai produces almost nothing to trade, barely enough to feed its own people. I did not realize, when I left home those years ago, how poor it was. The losses in the attack on Kieri reduced the workforce even more. There is only one mill, for instance. Many homes still use hand-mills.”

“Yet the lords Verrakai always appeared wealthy when at court,” Duke Marrakai said.

“From other business perhaps,” Dorrin said. Business she preferred not to contemplate. “But I have enough to do here. Roads are but the first step on the path I hope this domain will take. We must have towns as well, crafters and merchants in addition to farmers.”

“Some of the smaller domains have complained there’s not enough land for their population,” Marrakai commented. “I don’t know if their people would want to move here, but some might.”

“I would welcome younger families, people with energy and the will to work,” Dorrin said. “It’s easy enough to find malcontents—I’ve had some of those show up—but I want to settle good people on the land. If they’re also active in a grange, that’s an advantage.”

“Can you feed them the first year?”

“Depends how many,” Dorrin said. “That’s always the difficulty—Kieri had the same in the north when we were starting there. He had the advantage of starting with retiring soldiers who knew him, but he needed specialists, too. The miller, for instance. Cost at least half the profit that year to set up the mill and hire the miller, who wasn’t at all sure he wanted to move to the wasteland, as he thought it.”

“Well,” Marrakai said, “wasn’t that count in the south … Lordal, wasn’t it? … saying he was overcrowded?”

“Yes,” the king said. “You might speak to him at Midsummer Court, my lord, and offer for some of his farmers.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Dorrin said. “Thank you.”

After the royal procession left, Beclan came back to the main house. “Why did he let me stay to greet him, then send me away?” he asked.

“He says he must know everyone’s heir,” Dorrin said. “In fact, he does trust you and care for you, but it’s the way things are—he must be seen to distance himself from you. He asked how you were coming in your study of magery. He wants you to continue.”

“He does? But then—after you—I mean—not that I want it—” He had turned deep red with embarrassment.

“When you succeed me,” Dorrin said, emphasizing each word, “he will have a known magelord as duke here, yes. He knows that; he seems to have accepted it. He’d rather have you than any of Verrakai blood, Beclan. Whatever your name, you’re his cousin.”

“I see.”