“—By what right are you here?” the officer was saying.

“I’m Duke Verrakai,” Dorrin said, coming forward. “And this is Verrakai’s house in Vérella.”

“I know whose house it is,” he said. “But I do not know you, and I know that Verrakaien are under Order of Attainder. Come forth, and face the justice of the Court.”

“I am not under that order,” Dorrin said. “I was summoned here for the prince’s coronation, and I have a pass from the prince himself.”

“You can explain that to the Court,” the officer said.

“I will show you the pass.” Dorrin had tucked it into her doublet at the city gate; she took it out again. “Here.”

He glanced at it, then looked again and read it. “You are not under Order of Attainder … how can that be? Is this genuine?”

Dorrin waited, saying nothing.

“Stay here,” he said. “I will take this to the palace and see if it is truly what the prince meant to say.”

Dorrin looked at the man who was obviously his second-in-command.

“I have been riding all morning,” she said. “I would rest—have one of my people bring a chair. And you, too, if you will.”

“I am not going in that cursed house,” the man said. “We could not enter it when the prince told us to make sure it was empty—and now you enter it with a touch, the witnesses say. It is a trap.”

“Gani, bring me a chair, please,” Dorrin said. “Set it here, where this gentleman can see.” When the chair arrived, she had it placed so the door would not close, and sat down, smiling up at the man outside the door. “I have no intent to harm you, or anyone who does not harm me first. The prince knows why he appointed me Duke; my family disowned me tens and tens of years ago and I have served Duke Phelan for most of the time since.”

“The one who’s king now?” the man asked. “Did you meet that paladin?”

“Paks? Yes. She was not in my cohort, but Captain Arcolin’s. She is watching Verrakai Steading while I am here, in fact.”

“Lord Sir Ammerlin, he said he saw her make light over the whole battle, over there east when he was taking Phelan to Lyonya to be king.”

“She did indeed,” Dorrin said. “I was there and saw it.”

His brow furrowed. “You were there. But—how?”

Dorrin explained, as briefly as she could, and then saw the other captain riding back at a quick trot, as those on foot scattered. He looked both relieved and embarrassed as he dismounted.

“My lord Duke, I am sorry—we have had such trouble, I did not trust your pass—but the prince says you are welcome here, and not under Order of Attainder, not you nor anyone with you. Please—my apologies.” He bowed.

“You were wise to be cautious,” Dorrin said. “And fortunate in not being able to enter here, for my relatives who practiced evil left many dangers for the unwary. I know you have other duties, but could you tell me where the nearest grange of Gird is? Or a Falkian field?”