Ghreni waited for Mount to figure out what it was he was saying, which didn’t take long, because Mount wasn’t stupid. Then Ghreni had to wait while Mount weighed everything that had just happened in his head. He watched as microexpressions flashed across Mount’s face—the realization that Ghreni had basically walked him into a trap where Mount would have to give him what he wanted; irritation that he’d been that easily maneuvered; suspicion that Ghreni might have orchestrated the assassination outright for this very purpose; veiled admiration if that was in fact the case; recognition that this rebellion was a goddamned stupid mess and that the sooner it was over, by whatever means, the better off everyone would be; resignation that this sneaky little Nohamapetan was probably the best chance Mount had to get this whole shitshow off his hands quickly.

Ghreni knew Mount was going to offer him the dukedom probably a few hundredths of a second before Mount did.

“All right, Lord Ghreni,” Mount said. “Get a cease-fire in the next hour and a truce in the next twenty-four and you’re acting duke. I’ll start the paperwork for the recommendation to make it stick. But I want to be clear with you about this, my young friend. If I discover that the assassination of the duke is in any way different than how you’ve related it to me here, your dukedom is going to be a three-meter-by-three-meter cell for the rest of your natural life. And I will make it my personal business to assure you live a very long life indeed. Are we clear?”

“Of course, Sir Ontain.”

“Then congratulations, Lord Ghreni, provisional Duke of End. Get to work.” Mount strode out of the morgue. Ghreni suppressed the urge to pump his fists in joy.

One hour later he’d secured the cease-fire and dispatched people to get to work on the treaty. He hadn’t had to threaten General Onjsten with the Imperial Marines, of course; she was working for him anyway.

Two hours later he’d informed Captain Wimson of the Red Rose that payment for the ship damages and the weapons would be forthcoming pending Ghreni’s formal installation as acting duke, so please be patient and don’t have him murdered.

Three hours later the new acting Duke of End was informed that the Count of Claremont was awake and cognizant. Ghreni decided to pay him a visit, and ordered everyone, including the six Imperial Marines, to wait on the other side of the door. They complied, although not happily. Ghreni took the chair in the corner of the room and sat it next to the hospital bed, so he could talk very quietly to the count.

“I’m the Duke of End now,” he said to the count.

“Congratulations,” the count said, after a moment. There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm to his voice.