“Good beginning. Though as we’ve been finding out, this palace isn’t as secure as it could be.”

“I suppose someone could come in over the walls—”

The Knight-Commander shook his head. “Not that way. Underground: it’s a warren, with some parts left from Gird’s day, additions and demolitions, no rational plan. I asked the steward to look into it, because I know some of the lads in training have secret passages to get from the barracks to the training hall and it occurred to me that the Thieves’ Guild would no doubt benefit by a way in. I never thought of one of the nobles—” He glanced at the other two. “Do they know who—?”

“Yes; I read them Ammerlin’s message. I didn’t tell Manthar and Belin.”

“Verrakai never liked Phelan,” Beclan said. “He always resented him, and I suppose it was just too much—but ignoring a royal pass—”

“I wonder if that family has held on to any of the old magery,” the Marshal-Judicar said. “That could be … difficult.”

“Illegal,” Beclan said. “But no one’s seen anything like that since the Girdish wars. Surely you don’t think they’ve managed to conceal it all this time?”

“My father says they had it longer than anyone,” Juris Marrakai said. “He said that’s why our families have always been at odds. We lost the magery early, and they didn’t—they scorned us for that. Said we’d intermarried with stupid peasants.”

“Leaving that aside,” the Marshal-Judicar said, “the question is what resources does Verrakai have here and now. Which of the family are in the palace now, tonight, and what Verrakai retainers—”

“Or agents,” the Knight-Commander said.

“Or agents. Which are here now, an immediate threat, and where might they be? I know the Duke maintains a house in Vérella; gods grant he’s there, and not here.”

“And gods grant he doesn’t yet know that we know, that the attack failed and we have a message from Ammerlin.” The Knight-Commander pulled his feet off the footstool with a sigh and looked around at his boots. “Not dry yet, I’ll wager … but the palace plans, such as they are, are up in the library—”

“I’ll go,” Serrostin said. “I know exactly where they are. Do you need anything else?”

The Knight-Commander sat back. “Yes, Rolyan, if you wouldn’t mind. The chapter secretary may still be somewhere about; if he is, ask him to attend me here. I don’t suppose another few minutes of warm feet will matter.”

“And beware,” the prince said. “We don’t know what the situation is, Roly, so be careful.”

“I will,” Rolyan said with a grin, patting the hilt of his sword.

In the quiet after Rolyan left, the prince wanted to leap up again and do something, anything. When would the other men come, those he was sure—almost sure—he could trust? How long would it take—how long had it been already? Just as he was ready to spring to his feet again, Juris Marrakai sat, with a sigh, in the other chair.