“We don’t keep jails in Jorat. When someone has trespassed our laws, we hold prisoners for long enough to ensure their presence at the next tourney. Prisoners are given to tournament winners under the belief a champion’s idorrá will bring saelen back into the fold. I’ve never heard of a tournament where the number of saelen awarded mattered, however.”

“Awarded?” Brother Qown choked. “You mean ever since Tolamer, we’ve been selling bandits into slavery?”

“Yeah,” Ninavis said, “that’s just what you’ve been doing.”

The count’s glare would melt glass. “No, it isn’t. The awarded men and women aren’t slaves or prisoners. They are adopted, brought into a new herd for their rehabilitation. It’s not at all the same thing as slavery.”

Ninavis snorted. “You say sword, I say blade.”

“Now, now, my foals. There’ll be time for philosophizing later,” Dorna said. “We need to figure out what’s what with that guard. Why’s a Yoran trying to disguise himself as Joratese?”

“Plenty of people disguise themselves as Joratese,” Ninavis snapped.

“Aye,” Dorna agreed, “but letting folks assume a wine-stain birthmark means you’re a local girl ain’t much of a disguise.”

Brother Qown blinked. Ninavis wasn’t Joratese? Her accent was perfect. After Dorna had pointed it out, Brother Qown realized the large maroon splash across Ninavis’s face didn’t resemble Jorat skin marking as much as a regular birthmark.

“He’s not the only soldier like this either,” Count Janel said, moving the conversation back to the original topic. “Captain Dedreugh should have been able to understand Arasgon. He couldn’t.”

“Dedreugh’s new,” Ninavis volunteered. “Most of the soldiers are. They showed up a few months ago, when Tamin took over after his father’s death. Tamin said he didn’t trust the guards who let his father die.”

“What happened to those original guards?” the count asked.

Ninavis spread her hands. “That’s a damn fine question.” She handed back the handkerchief, now streaked with blood. “Look, I know you and the baron used to be pals, but there’s nothing friendly about him now. You want to help us? Pull him out of power. You’re the only person who can.”

“I’m not his count. I have no authority over him.”

“So don’t give him an order. Kill him. You can get close enough to do it, and you wouldn’t even need a weapon. You’re Danorak. If you say you had a good reason for doing it, people will believe you.”

Janel stared. “That is not how we do things here.”