“I’m going to ask you and the other dukes to look for magery on your estates and protect those you find from retribution—and make it known that only evil deeds make magery evil.”

Mahieran let out his breath. “Well. And what about Beclan?”

“There’s more,” Mikeli said. “There’s another mage in the royal family—”

“Celbrin? One of the girls?”

“Camwyn,” Mikeli said. Mahieran stared, obviously shocked. “And, Uncle, I have kept this a secret from you and the Council, hoping as I said for word from the Marshal-General.”

“You—but you know what it means! Your brother—”

“Cannot be my heir. Yes. He knows that; I know that. But I’m not going to kill him or the others. Nor let this realm fall into chaos, not when we have enemies who might invade next year.”

“What about Beclan?”

“I won’t reverse the adoption, Uncle. But I will allow him contact with the family. He is a better heir for Duke Verrakai than her kinsman was, in my opinion, and his being of Mahieran and not Verrakai descent ensures no taint of their kind of magery.”

“And my wife?”

Mikeli looked at the aging face, the man who had been like a father to him after his father died, and felt pity for him. “It’s not just about whether she has magery. She tried to kill a peer. She is still angry with me; she still—she says—hates Duke Verrakai and blames her for everything. As such, she is a danger to my policies. Uncle, I know she was a good wife to you, and cared for you and your children. But consider carefully. Can you keep her from causing any more trouble—any kind of trouble—either directly or through talk with her friends?”

Mahieran bowed his head. “I … am not sure. I never thought she would act as she did that night.”

“Your daughters, my cousins, have shown no signs of magery, and are no more confined than their aunt would have them. I have not received them here, but I will. Your wife … we must be certain, Uncle. There are other evils than magery, and if Celbrin’s mind has turned that way—”

“I am loath to believe it of her,” Mahieran said. “But she had always great pride and temper. Oktar?”

“I tried to persuade her, my lord, that Beclan’s magery did not come from Duke Verrakai or any act of hers. But the friends who used to visit her—those you allowed, my lord—no longer go, saying she is too bitter.”

“May I go, sir king?”

“Yes,” Mikeli said. “But be careful. I do not think she has magery—it would surely have shown by now—but if her mind has failed she might do you a hurt. And I cannot afford to lose any of my dukes—or my only uncle.”

“And if she swears to me she will be sensible?”