They nodded and muttered their agreement, shuffling off to their posts. Dorrin followed, making sure each was in his place, then went to the great glass in the downstairs hall and turned it, ringing the bell to start the watch. She went into the room where the royal treasures were, carrying the old trousers and shirt she slept in, and looked at the sack a moment. “I wish,” she said, “you could tell me your history and why you think you want me …” Then she changed, laid her court clothes on the table and stretched out on the floor, a candlestick and her sword to hand.

The house creaked, as old houses did. She heard no mice or rats—with no food in the house since before the Evener, they would have moved to better quarters. The room was stuffy with its shutters closed, but she’d slept in hotter, stuffier places. The smells were old and dry, whatever they were; she knew that here on the floor she would be smelling odors tracked in from the street, as well as those intrinsic to the house. She dozed off.

When the bell rang, she woke at once, lit the candle with her own magelight, and went to check on the rotation of the watch. Overhead, she heard Perin coming down … and then one by one they moved as she had directed. When they were all in place, she turned the glass again and went back to get what rest she could.

Dawn came early near midsummer; Dorrin woke Efla and Jaim, and sent three of her escort to sleep as soon as they’d had breakfast. The other two, she promised, would have their time later. Her own breakfast she scarcely tasted, thinking of all that must be done: find a suitable container for the treasure, cleanse the taint of blood magery, find the many traps … and the day-to-day running of the house, the market trips, the laundry, carting away the horses’ dung, fetching straw and hay …

A knock on the door interrupted her search for a suitable container—she had found three, but all heavily spelled—and she hurried downstairs as Eddes called her.

When she opened the door, two Marshals wearing formal blue tabards and two yeomen with blue sashes were waiting.

“Be welcome,” Dorrin said. “May I have your names?”

“Marshal Veksin,” one said, “and my yeoman-marshal Gilles.” The other, Marshal Tamis, introduced another yeoman-marshal, Berin.

“We should start with the worst contamination,” Tamis said. “Will you take us there, please?”

“Yes,” Dorrin said, “but I am required at the palace this morning and three of my men—who had watch the night through—are sleeping there—” She nodded to the smaller reception room, where the men snored away on the floor and her clothes were still laid out on the table.

“How many servants did you bring with you?” Marshal Tamis asked.

“Just a cook and a boy to help,” Dorrin said. “And five men for an escort and to manage the animals. I am more used to traveling light, military style, and did not think what a house this size might need.”