“I’m going to burn out the tower,” Dorrin said.

“Can you do that without firing the house as well?”

“I hope so,” Dorrin said. “The tower must come down, but we don’t have time now—burning it out’s the next best thing.”

The great hall, only that morning full of Verrakaien, now held a few hands of lean, wary prisoners freed from the dungeons. They stared at Dorrin, anger and fear both obvious in their faces.

“You have reason to hate me,” Dorrin said. “You can see in my face that I am Verrakai by birth, and you have known nothing but cruelty from my family. But some of you look old enough to remember me—the one who ran away.”

“So they said,” one of the women said. “I didn’t believe it.”

“Do not believe me, then, but believe this—” She touched Falk’s ruby. “I ran away, I went to Lyonya and was accepted into Falk’s service. Since I was knighted, I’ve served Kieri Phelan, once Duke Phelan of Tsaia and now the new king of Lyonya.”

“The Fox …” someone muttered.

“The crown prince and Council of Tsaia appointed me here, to take over Verrakai, because they knew the other Verrakaien hated me.”

“They should have killed that scum and broken up the domain—” said a man with stringy gray hair.

“Haron Verrakai is dead,” Dorrin said. “And his brother. All Verrakai, save me, are under an Order of Attainder—do you know what that is?”

They shook their heads.

“For their treason, their lives are forfeit. All will be tried; some may be found not guilty, but most will die.” They did not speak or move; their faces showed only doubt and fear.

“I do not know why you were in prison; I do not care. If you were stealing or hurting your neighbors, do so no more.”

“Weren’t that!” one of the women said, suddenly bold. She took a step forward. “I said only as it wasn’t fair all our food was tooken for the soldiers, and someone told the militia, and they brung me here and said I’d find out what hunger was, in them cells.”

“It wasn’t fair,” Dorrin said. “And I took you out of those cells and saw you fed, didn’t I?”

“Yes …” It was a grudging yes, but it was agreement, and some of the others nodded.

“It may not be safe for you to go home, with some of my relatives escaped. So I ask if you would be willing to stay here—work here—for the time being. You will be housed, clothed, fed. If you are not willing, I will not hold you here, but I cannot promise you will be safe on your way to your homes—or there—until I’ve dealt with the other Verrakaien.”

“Can we keep these clothes?” asked another woman, holding out a skirt that had obviously belonged to a highborn lady.

“Why not?” Dorrin said. The former prisoners grinned at each other and some began whispering. “I’m not going to wear them.” She gestured at her own garb. “I’ve been a soldier over four hands of years; I need no fancy dresses. But—” She waited until the stir died down. “Remember the danger. If the Verrakai who fled the house see you in the clothes they last saw on their relatives, what do you think they’ll do?”