“Why should I tell a fool?” asked Anonoei. “You are the Sparrowfriend, the weakling. Couldn’t you see how she mocked your pathetic magery?”

“I’m a Hawkbrother,” said Frostinch.

“Hawk?” asked Anonoei. “Oh, so I’ve heard. But the birds that come to you, the birds you ride, the birds who spy for you—all I’ve seen you use are crows.”

He grinned. “Crows are little noticed. Alone, they steal whatever I need them to steal. In a pack, they can tear the meat off an enemy in minutes.”

“I don’t disparage the many talents of crows,” said Anonoei. “What I despise are people who pretend to be nobler than they are. Hawkfriend.”

“I have ridden hawks,” said Frostinch.

“They shuddered at your presence, and tried to kill themselves to be rid of you.”

For the first time, he was genuinely angry and humiliated. “How could you know that! It was years—”

“I have spied on you for days, but the Gate Thief has watched you for years. When you’re dead, who will be Jarling of Gray?”

His face went ashen. “Is that her plot?”

“She has high hopes for her son by Prayard. Your father and you think you have nothing to fear from the baby, because you imagine that she has no talent to pass on to him. Here is the power she has: power to rule in his name. Once you are dead, have no doubt that your father will name this baby in her womb to be his heir. Then, when he is born, both your father and Prayard will die—very differently, but die they will—and she will rule in the baby’s name. Have you any doubt that such a plan would work?”

Frostinch walked to the window. His skin was covered with gooseflesh, though it might be the bitter cold from the window. He kept his closeroom cold, the windows uncovered. To kill the stink perhaps. Or to make him feel that he was strong and hardy, a true man of war, instead of the man of crowlike cunning that he was.

“What do you hope to gain from me?” he asked. “If she’s so powerful and clever and dangerous, then she’ll succeed and I can’t stop her.”

“True,” said Anonoei. “She has already blocked you at every point. But there are things you could do that would prevent her plot.”

“I already tried to have her killed,” said Frostinch, “though not because I feared her.”

“No, you merely thought your father was coddling Iceway for her sake, and you wanted to have another bloody war and kill Prayard and wear the crown of Iceway on your own head.”

“Why should I be a mere Jarl when I might be a king?”