“Your fellow rulers will do what suits them—and their people. I would advise you no differently myself.” He raised a hand to forestall her indignant objection. “That is not so bad as it sounds, Highness. Any alliances we can make will be more straightforward if we do not clutter them with ideas like ‘honor.’ As long as we can bring our new ally some benefit, he will remain our ally—a simple, clean arrangement. And things are not so helpless as I may have painted them earlier. We do not necessarily need an entire army to reclaim Southmarch. All we need is enough strength to prevent Tolly getting his hands on you and killing you outright or pronouncing you an impostor—we could get by with a fairly small force. Then, if we can avoid being overwhelmed immediately, we will be able to reveal you to the people of Southmarch and denounce the Tollys as murderers and usurpers. That is the first step.”

Briony frowned. “Why is that only the first step? Surely if we could engineer such a thing that would solve the whole problem.”

Shaso clicked his tongue at her. “Think, Highness! Do you believe that even if he is revealed as the worst sort of usurper, Hendon Tolly will simply surrender? No. He and his brother Caradon will know they must hold what they have stolen or die on a traitor’s gibbet. Hendon will go to ground in Southmarch like a badger in a hole and Caradon will reinforce him. Anyone trying to force Hendon out will find himself trapped between the castle walls and the army of Summerfield.”

“So we don’t need an army, but we need an army? You’re not making sense.”

“Think on it carefully, Highness,” Shaso told her.

She hated it when her elders talked that way. What it meant was, I already know the answer because I’m grown and I know things, but you need to learn how to think, and then you can be wise and wonderful like me. “I don’t know.”

“What is our true need—no more, no less?”

Effir dan-Mozan, meanwhile, was watching the exchange with bright-eyed interest, as though he were a spectator at some particularly fascinating contest. That reminded Briony of something. “What is it my father always says when he’s playing King’s Square?” she asked Shaso. “Something from one of those old philosophers, I think.”

“Ah, yes. ‘Errors of caution are more likely to be considered at leisure than errors of boldness—but less likely to be considered after a victory.’ In other words, if you are too careful, you are more likely to live, but less likely to win. It is one of his favorite epigrams—and one of the reasons I admire him.”

“It is?” She was so pleased to hear someone, especially Shaso, talk about her father as a living person instead of as though he were already dead that she forgave the old man his lecturing ways.

“Yes. He is one of the most thoughtful men I have ever met, but he is not afraid to move swiftly and boldly when necessary—to take risks. It is how he beat me at Hierosol, you know.”