It all suddenly seemed so bleak, so hopeless. Briony clenched her jaw. She would not cry in front of these older men, would not be reassured or coddled. It was her kingdom—her father’s, yes, but Olin was a prisoner in Hierosol. Southmarch needed her, and it especially needed her to be strong. “My father, the king—have you heard anything of him?”

The merchant nodded soberly. “Nothing that suggests he is not safe, Highness, or that anything has changed, but I hear rumors that Drakava’s grip on Hierosol is not as strong as it might be. And there are other tales, mere whispers, that the autarch is readying a great fleet—that he might wish Hierosol for himself.”

“What?” Shaso sat up, almost spilling his cup of gawa. Clearly this was new to him. “The autarch surely cannot be ready for that—he has only just pacified his own vassals in Xand—surely half his army must be garrisoned in Mihan, Marash, and our own miserable country. How could he move so soon against Hierosol and its mighty walls?”

Dan-Mozan shook his head. “I cannot answer you, my lord. All I can tell you is what I hear, and the whisper is that Sulepis has been assembling a fleet with great speed, as though something has happened which has pushed forward his plans.” He turned to Briony, almost apologetically. “We all know that the Xixians have desired greater conquest on Eion, and that taking Hierosol would let them control all the Osteian Sea and the southern oceans on either side.”

Briony waved away all this detail, angry and intent. “The autarch plans to attack Hierosol? Where my father is?”

“Rumors, only,” said Dan-Mozan. “Do not let yourself be too alarmed, Princess. It is probably only these uncertain times, which tend to set tongues wagging even when there is nothing useful to say.”

“We must go and get my father,” she told Shaso. “If we take ship now we could be there before spring!”

He scowled and shook his head. “You will forgive me for being blunt, Highness, but that is foolishness. What could we do there? Join him in captivity, that is all. No, in fact you would be married by force to Drakava and I would go to the gibbet. There are many in Hierosol who wish me dead, not least of which is my onetime pupil, Dawet.”

“But if the autarch is coming…!”

“If the autarch is coming to Eion, then we have many problems, and your father is only one of them.”

“Please, please, honored guests!” Effir dan-Mozan lifted his hands and clapped. “Have more gawa, and we have some very nice almond pastries as well. Do not let yourself be frightened, Princess. These are the merest whispers, as I said, and likely not true.”

“I’m not frightened. I’m angry.” But she fell into an unhappy silence as Dan-Mozan’s nephew Talibo returned and served more food and hot drinks. Briony looked at her hands, which she was having trouble keeping decorously still: if the youth was staring at her again, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of noticing.