“No one is,” Arcolin continued. “But equally, no one is incapable of doing good. You have done good, Arvid, in your life. At least once that I know of. Probably more times than that.”

“Thieves are not known for doing good,” Arvid said. He twisted the polishing rag in his hands.

“But do you think them all evil, you who have been one?”

“No. Not all. And not all the time.” Though his voice was thick with tears, Arvid sounded less on the edge of some mental precipice.

“So,” Arcolin said. “The people who said they thought you had stolen the Marshal-General’s money were wrong. I suppose, if you went back to Vérella and committed yourself to the Guild, you could manage to kill your rival and regain your power. If that is what you truly want.”

“At first I did,” Arvid said. “Now—I am not sure. How could I trust any of them?”

“Did you ever?”

“Yes. Or thought I did.” Arvid sighed. “I am a shadow of myself here, a false person, and—”

A knock came at the door. “Dattur?” Arvid said.

“Yes,” came the answer.

“We have men from Fox Company,” Arvid said. “Come in if you will.”

Arcolin looked at the gnome who entered: dressed in colors, not a gnomish uniform, and thus kteknik. He summoned the gnomish he’d learned and greeted the gnome in that language. “Welcome, rockbrother, and forgive my errors in your tongue.”

Bright black eyes looked back at him. “It is that you speak the words of Law?”

“It is that those rockbrothers I know taught me it was more courteous to greet you in your language.”

“No obligation,” the gnome said. Then, cocking his head to one side, he asked in Common, “What gnomes? What princedom?”

“Their princedom fell,” Arcolin said, “and they are kteknik by the Law.”

“They? But princes do not exile whole princedoms—” The gnome walked up to Arcolin and stared straight in his face.

“I have the word of a dragon,” Arcolin said, “and the word of the estvin of the rockbrethren. The dragon thinks their prince betrayed a trust—”

“A dragon’s trust?” the gnome said; his voice had weakened, and his skin paled. “They dared?”

“Their estvin thinks the prince was captured, perhaps tortured … The princedom, he said, had been weakened by many attacks, and no one came to aid. When the final attacks came, those remaining were too weak to prevent what happened.”

“You know what happened!”

“Yes. The dragon’s—”

“No! Do not say it. It is not to say, never. It is not Law for you to know, and you must not say!”

“Dattur, what is it?” Arvid asked.