“What did you say to the captain of the guard?” he asked the messenger.

“Nothing, Your Highness. Never saw him. Just told the guard at the gate I had to see you, it was urgent, I had dispatches under the seal of Gird.”

Mikeli paused to order his thoughts. If he called out, someone would come, but in a bustle; time would be wasted. He had messengers here whom every palace guard knew.

“Manthar.” Manthar Kostvan stepped forward. “Take this note—” He scrawled rapidly, poured on hot wax, stamped it with his seal ring. “—to the officer of the guard. I want the palace gates closed to all—no one to enter or leave, no matter what rank. He must alert the palace guard inside, but quietly. We want no panic, no confusion in which someone might be missed. Then find your father and ask him to come to—” He paused. Meet where? Where was safe? Who else would he need? The Knights of the Bells, certainly. “In the Knight-Commander’s chambers, near the Grange Hall. I’m going there now. Go swiftly, but do not raise an alarm.” Manthar nodded and hurried out the door. “Belin.” Mikeli scrawled another note, and sealed it, as Belin nodded. “Escort Piter here to the steward, make sure he gets a meal and that someone takes charge of him, lest the traitor strike him down, then go for your father with the same message.” He handed Belin that note; Belin and the messenger left.

Mikeli looked at the three dukes’ sons still standing at his table. They all looked back, brows bunched a little as they tried to puzzle out what was going on.

“Gentlemen—you deserve to know what is amiss. Let me read this to you.” He read Ammerlin’s message, glancing up from line to line to gauge their reactions. Shock, horror, disgust, anger. When he finished, and let the scroll curl up, they burst into speech.

“I can’t believe they would—”

“After the paladin proved Duke Phelan—the king—was the king—”

“Even a Verrakai—”

“But what can we do?” Rolyan Serrostin, practical as ever, said it first.

“Are all your fathers in the palace this night?” Mikeli asked.

His cousin and Juris Marrakai nodded; Rolyan shook his head.

“My father isn’t far away,” he said. “He only went to have dinner with my great-uncle, a few streets west. I could fetch him—”

“There isn’t time,” the prince said. “And I’ve already ordered the gates closed. Roly, you stick with me. You two, go find your fathers.”

“You need more than one of us with you,” Juris Marrakai said. “My father’s dining with Duke Mahieran—Rothlin or I could find both—”

“I’ll go,” Rothlin said. “My father was going to take yours to the stable afterwards, to talk horses—you know how they are when they get started. I know which stall they’ll be hanging on the door of, if they’re not still at table.”

“I’ll stay, then,” Juris said.

“Tell your fathers I must meet them urgently,” the prince said. “If they are alone, tell them it’s a matter of treason, and who, but otherwise, only that it’s urgent. Go now, and quickly. If any of you come to the Knight-Commander’s chambers before I do, let him know there’s trouble and I’m on the way. Roly? Juris? Let’s go.”