“One at a time, starting with you—” Dorrin pointed to her mother. “Go there, with those soldiers.” Women she had had Selfer choose, experienced enough to be wary and thorough. Two others held a blanket for a semblance of privacy. Behind it, one at a time, the women were stripped naked, then given peasant clothes already searched for hidden weapons.

Furious as they were, the women offered no more resistance. They came from behind the blanket in house livery or drab peasant dress and sat on the floor where they were bidden, watching as Dorrin’s troops carried Jeruvin’s body out of the house, as their clothes and ornaments were examined and separated into piles—dangerous, safe, uncertain.

Dorrin knew they had not been converted from resistance: merely, for the moment, outflanked. She wished again that she’d had a Captain of Falk, Marshal of Gird, or paladin along with her. Selfer came to report.

“Aris’s arm will heal; that blade wasn’t poisoned,” Selfer said. “My horse—well, he’s lame, and like to be lame forever, if he lives.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorrin said. The charger had been Selfer’s first purchase when he became captain.

He shook his head, and went on with his report. “We found none but servants in the outbuildings, but stalls lately occupied are empty: those you seek must have had warning.”

“Or been living in the forest, ready for this, since the battle was lost,” Dorrin said. “My family may be evil, but they were never stupid, and what little mother’s milk we had was flavored with tactics and strategy. Not that it matters, but for the possibility of attack. They may well have had an underground passage; check the outbuildings and stable carefully.”

“Could be one in the house, too, my lord,” Selfer said.

“I know of one, but it leads only to the keep,” Dorrin said. “I’ll show you when we have time. For now, I need to check the keep and release any prisoners.”

“Bring them in here?”

“No—not with my relatives. They should be safe enough over-night in the upper floors; we can take over food and water.”

“My lord,” Valthan said, “you must not go yourself.”

“I must,” Dorrin said. “The danger’s too great for anyone who does not know the traps.”

“If you die,” Valthan said, “will your control of the magelords continue? Or will I be left with prisoners I cannot control?”

“It should continue,” Dorrin said. “When the Knight-Commander bound my magery—when I was a young woman—that binding lasted through his death until the new Knight-Commander released it.”

“We cannot afford to lose you,” Valthan said. “The realm cannot afford to lose you.”

“I am needed only if I do what the prince commanded,” Dorrin said. “Sir Valthan, I have been a soldier too long to risk my life needlessly—or withhold risk where it is needed.”

He gave her a long, puzzled look, then nodded.

“Stay here with the prisoners,” Dorrin said. “I will take an escort of Phelani into the keep; they are experienced with the sorts of dangers that might be found here. I want to do this before dark, and afternoon is waning.”