“Oh, nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking that for an ambassador, you’re a very capable general.”

“No you weren’t,” she told him bluntly. “You’re thinking that I’m capable for a woman.”

“That too.”

Arista smiled. “Well, it’s lucky that I am, because so far I’m pretty lousy at being a woman. I honestly can’t stand needlepoint.”

“I suppose I should set out tonight for Melengar,” Royce said. “Unless there’s something else you need before I go?”

Arista shook her head.

“How about you?” he asked Hadrian. “Assuming you survive this stunt, what are you going to do now that you know the heir is dead?”

“Hang on, are you sure the heir is dead?” Arista broke in.

“You were there. You heard what Bartholomew said,” Hadrian replied. “I don’t think he was lying.”

“I’m not saying that he was … It’s just that … well, Esrahaddon seemed pretty convinced the heir was still alive when he left Avempartha. And then there’s the church. They’re after Esra, expecting him to lead them to the real heir. They so much as told me that when I was at Ervanon last year. So why is everyone looking if he’s dead?”

“There’s no telling what Esrahaddon is up to. As for the church, they pretended to look for the heir just as they’re pretending they found her,” Royce said.

“Perhaps, but there’s still the image that we saw in the tower. He seemed like a living, breathing person to me.”

Royce nodded. “Good point.”

Hadrian shook his head. “There couldn’t have been another child. My father would have known and searched for him … or her. No, Danbury knew the line ended or he wouldn’t have stayed in Hintindar.”

He glanced at Royce, then lowered his eyes. “In any case, if I survive, I won’t be returning to Riyria.”

Royce nodded. “You’ll probably get killed, anyway. But … I suppose you’re okay with that—as happy as a dog with a bone.”

“How’s that?”

“Nothing.”

There was a pause, then Hadrian said, “It’s not completely hopeless. It’s just that damn cavalry. They’ll cut down the Nationalists in a heartbeat. If only it would rain again.”

“Rain?” Arista asked.

“Charging horses carrying heavy armored knights need solid ground. After the last few days, the ground has already dried. If I could engage them over tilled rain-drenched farmland, the horses will mire themselves and Dermont would lose his best advantage. But the weather doesn’t look like it’s gonna cooperate.”

“So you would prefer it to rain nonstop between now and the battle?” Arista asked.

“That would be one sweet miracle, but I don’t expect we’ll have that kind of luck.”

“Perhaps luck isn’t what we need.” Arista smiled at him.