"Porenn!" Javelin had gasped. "That's unheard of! "

“Not really. You just heard it from me. Tell your people to sweep all the unofficial spies out, as well. I want this wing of the palace totally unpopulated within the hour. I have spies of my own, Javelin, and I know where all the usual hiding places are. Clean out every one of them."

"I'm bitterly disappointed in you, Porenn. Monarchs simply don't treat the intelligence service in this fashion. Have you any idea of what this is going to do to my people's morale?"

"Frankly, Khendon, I couldn't care less about the morale of your professional snoops. This is a matter of supreme urgency.”

"Has my service ever failed you, your Majesty?" Javelin's tone had been a bit offended.

"Twice that I recall. Didn't the Bear-cult infiltrate your service? And didn't your people fail abysmally to warn me about Genera! Haldar's defection?"

Javelin had sighed. "All right, Porenn, sometimes a few minor things have escaped us."

"You call Haldar's going over to the Bear-cult minor?"

"You're being unnecessarily critical, Porenn,"

"I want this wing cleared, Javelin. Would you like to have me summon my son? We'll draw up a proclamation making the prohibition against spying on the royal family permanent."

"You wouldn't!" Javelin's face had turned absolutely white. "The whole service would collapse. The right to spy on the royal family has always been the highest reward for exemplary service. Most of my people jump at the chance.” He frowned slightly. "Silk's turned it down three times already, though," he added.

"Then clear them out, Javelin and don't forget the closet hidden behind the tapestry in the corridor just outside."

"How did you find out about that?"

"I didn't. Kheva did, actually."

Javelin had groaned.

A few hours after that, Porenn sat impatiently in her sitting room with her son, King Kheva. Kheva was maturing rapidly now. His voice had settled into a resonant baritone, and a downy beard had begun to sprout on his cheeks. His mother, in somewhat marked contrast to most regents, had been gradually introducing him into state councils and negotiations with foreign powers. It would not be long now until she could gently guide him to the forefront and gradually withdraw herself from her unwanted position of authority. Kheva would be a good king, she thought. He was very nearly as shrewd as his father had been and he had that most necessary trait in a reigning monarch, good sense.

There was a rather heavy-handed pounding on the sitting-loom door. "Yes?" Porenn replied.

"It's me, Porenn," a brash-sounding voice said. "Yarblek."

"Come in, Yarblek. We've got something to talk about."