“Gird’s grace,” the Marshal said. He turned to Dorrin. “Were I you, I would seal this room until I can bring another Marshal. It will take more than one of us. Are there other such?”

“A symbol of Liart in the bedrooms where I believe my uncle the former Duke, my other uncle his brother, and the kirgan Verrakai slept. Blood marks on the threshold of the doors of those rooms. Symbols in blood on the floor beneath the beds—I do not know their meaning. I have sealed those rooms. I have not gone into the cellars at all; they are clearly tainted.”

“Where then will you sleep?” the Marshal asked.

“In that room where you waited,” Dorrin said. “There are more rooms upstairs—the servants’ quarters up in the attics might be safe, but I haven’t had time to check them.” At his expression, she grinned. “Marshal, I’ve slept on the ground or on floors many a night on campaign. A soft bed is pleasant, but not necessary.”

He shook his head. “When I think of you as Phelan’s captain, riding past at the head of your troops, I can believe it. But in court clothes, as Duke Verrakai? The only Duke Verrakai I’ve seen was very different.”

Dorrin rode the short distance to the palace with only one of her escort at her side, as requested. At the gates, the palace guard looked far more like guards and less ceremonial than she had seen on other trips through Vérella. As Dorrin rode up, an officer stepped forward, the knots of a Serrostin in the collateral line on his uniform shoulder. He clearly expected her.

“My lord,” he said, with a slight bow. “If it please you, dismount and let a groom take your horse and show your escort to the servants’ hall, he will be taken care of while you proceed—the prince will see you shortly.”

Dorrin dismounted and handed her reins to a groom in livery.

“And I’m afraid I must ask you to disarm,” the officer said. “Your arms will be borne for you by one of the guard, and returned when you leave, or if the prince grants permission to carry them yourself …”

“I understand,” Dorrin said. She took off the belt, sword and dagger still attached, and handed it to the officer, who passed it to another guard. “I wore no hidden weapons today, sir, though if you find it necessary, you may ask to search. I do wear mail, as I am aware of the hostility directed to my family—understandable, but I do not wish to die of it before I can report to the prince.”

He gave her a long look, as if making up his mind in lieu of specific orders, and then shook his head. “No need, my lord Duke. Duke Phelan trusted you; the prince trusts him. Redeem that trust, if you will, or my honor is forfeit.”

Serrostins, she recalled, were as honor-minded as Marrakai, another ancient family whose roots were somewhere in the deep south. Her family had sneered at them as having no magery, losing it early to presumed intermarriage with ignorant peasants.