Lord Bayar nodded. “If the residents are not directly responsible, they are sheltering those who are. It would benefit the public good if they left the queendom altogether. They would scarcely be missed. And the land would be valuable once cleared of the ragtaggers and their hovels.”

Han envisioned the swarms of children who ran the streets—children that Jemson struggled to save. Whose desperate lives Raisa had tried to change.

“And if the queen says no?” Han asked, his words falling soft and deadly into the silence.

“The Gray Wolf queens have always been practical when it comes to looking the other way,” Lord Bayar said.

“Do you think so?” Han said. “Do you think Queen Raisa will take a practical view this time, when I tell her that you plan to destroy half of Fellsmarch and murder old people and small children?”

“Nobody said anything about murder,” Lord Mander blustered.

But Han was watching Micah. Lord Bayar had never bothered to get to know Raisa well enough to anticipate what she might do. Micah, on the other hand, had tried to get to know her very well. And had maybe succeeded.

Micah’s eyes narrowed, and his expression betrayed a trace of doubt.

Han followed through on the thrust, knowing he was opening himself up to a return blow. “How about it, Micah?” he said. “How well will you be received the next time you knock on the queen’s door? Just how much is she willing to forgive?”

Micah’s face went sheet-white, set with the coals of his eyes.

“If the council votes in favor, then we will proceed,” Lord Bayar said, in the same calm, reasonable voice. “No doubt the queen will realize the advantages of a solution to this problem that does not involve getting her own hands dirty.”

“Father,” Micah said, licking his lips, “couldn’t this wait until our next meeting? That would give us time to approach Queen Raisa and see what she—”

“The queen has nothing to do with the deliberations of this body,” Lord Bayar said, giving his son a withering look.

“I realize that,” Micah said. “But wouldn’t it be better to let her know our plans, to prevent any misunderstandings later?”

“Queen Raisa need never know about this,” Lord Bayar said. “That will prevent any misunderstandings.” Shifting his gaze to Han, he added, “If you choose to tell her about this project, then we will deny that this discussion ever took place.” He smiled. “Whom do you think she will believe?”

Han’s pigeons had truly come home to roost. He’d purposely convinced the Bayars that Raisa had been strong-armed into putting him on the council—to protect the both of them. Consequently, the council assumed they could smooth over any trouble he might cause.

Han said nothing. He knew he’d been outplayed.

“Is there further discussion?” Lord Bayar looked around the table. “No? Then let us put it to a vote.”