“He became a horse singer out in Alagar. They found him lying at the side of a singer’s pit. Someone had been with him, footprints in the sand around his body, the coin in his hand.”

“Poison?” I asked.

“Almost certainly. No way of placing it.”

Milu had also been at Snakewood, but stayed only for a drink and to buy supplies before leaving with Kheld. They had lost heart as much as Harlain had; no talk of purses or where in the world was at war; they did not discuss, as did Sho or Shale, how my name could be put to work to bolster the gold of a purse.

I never tired of watching Milu work, bringing the wild horses to his side, training them to hold firm in the charge. It seemed that he, like Harlain, had been able to let go of the mercenary life before the colour took everything.

“Their deaths are connected, Kailen. It must be the Twenty.”

“You’ve heard from nobody else?”

“Only that Dithnir had died. He went back home to Tarantrea, one of their envoys that negotiates with the Quartet I represent knows me well and shared the news with me. I asked about a coin but there was none. Apart from that I keep in touch with Kheld when I’m in Handar, but the rest, no idea.”

I breathed deeply of the morning breeze that blew across the deck and slapped at the fringes of the awning we were beneath. Dithnir was a bowman, almost a match for Stixie, shy and inadvisedly romantic with whores, cold and implacable in the field.

“I remember Snakewood,” said The Prince.

Our eyes met briefly. “No. That was dealt with.” I’d said it more sharply than I’d intended. Why did I feel a thread of doubt?

He reached across the table, took the carafe and refilled our glasses.

“Your estate is improving,” he said, holding up his glass for a toast.

“Yes, these vines were planted two winters ago, they’ll improve. I only wish for Jua’s cooler summers, perhaps an estate nearer the hills. How is the Quartet? I hear you have brokered a treaty with the Shalec to cross their waters. Not even the Post could manage it.”

“Why would I toil through its ranks to High Reeve or Fieldsman when I can be a Partner with the Quartet. The Red himself could learn something from The Quartet regarding our softening of the Shalec, but I’m glad he hasn’t, I’m lining my pockets beautifully. Remarkable as the Post runs so much trade elsewhere. They can bid lower than us at almost every turn; we can’t match the subs, but we can work with lower margins, give Shalec a fee on the nutmeg, a pittance of course. Every investor north of the Gulf believes the Post controls the winds.”