“What does it mean?” Mahieran asked.

“Many questions to which we have no answers,” Seklis said. “But the only one that concerns me now is your purpose, Duke Verrakai, in bringing this here, now. That crown wants your head, unless I’m mistaken.”

“It has said so, but I am not royal-born, and the prince is. I thought here, perhaps, it would speak to him.”

“No,” Seklis said. “I think not. The old Tsaian crown was said to be of rubies, broken up during the sack of the palace in Gird’s day. This is not Tsaia’s crown.” He turned to Mahieran. “Would you know what realm in the south once had a ruling family with these colors?”

“No,” Duke Mahieran said, rubbing his nose. “And I advise against risking the prince’s life by trying that crown on him, if it does not choose.”

“You brought it as a gift?” Seklis asked.

“Yes,” Dorrin said. “As well, if I were found to be hiding a crown in a closet, you might think I meant to use it at some time, perhaps to claim the throne the prince is about to take in full power … especially since you already know the Verrakai retained some magery, and that I, too, have it.” She looked from face to face. “Indeed, from what was said earlier, it seems you have heard rumors of a crown, have you not?”

“Indeed we have,” the prince said. “I—the Council—discounted what Verrakaien said at their trial, and those trials were held in secret, but later rumors began in the city that the Verrakaien not only believed they were descended from kings, but had the proof of it, and a crown hidden that their magery could wake to great power.” He tipped his head toward the table. “Like that one.”

“We could not trace the rumor to its source,” Duke Mahieran said. “The market wardens heard it first, and assumed it came from some southern caravaner. Then a Girdsman told her Marshal, and the Marshal brought it to another, whose grange was just then buzzing with it. Marshals told High Marshals; in days it was all over the city. The Verrakaien would return, return with proof at last that they should rule Tsaia and have power to enforce their will.”

“A Verrakai started that rumor,” Dorrin said. “Have you found any that had changed bodies, as I wrote you?”

“Does the person whose body is taken know it?” the prince asked. “On the night of the attack, Haron Verrakai appeared like Duke Marrakai—fooled many of us—for a time, but Duke Marrakai does not remember being taken.”

Dorrin shook her head. “No, that is a different thing, a glamour cast to confuse the eyes.”

“Can you do it?” the prince asked.

“I’ve never tried,” Dorrin said. “I do not know how.” She felt around inside her magery, but nothing happened that she could feel. Yet those facing her fell back a step. “What?”

“You—you look like Kieri Phelan,” the prince said. “As like as his twin.”