Lioncel brought her lunch. And his brother, two years younger and as dark as Lioncel was fair, but otherwise much like his brother. The three made their usual quick meal in the office on the pork-loin sandwiches and potato salad and fruit. Dame Lilianth scolded as Diomede tried to avoid getting a huge yellow mustard blot on his hose—and succeeded in getting it all over the floor. After he had cleaned it up, she sent him out with Dame Lilianth and Ysolde to work on organizing the kitchens to cope with the influx of temporary workers; that was good training in logistics.

She was deep into a plan submitted by the Count Palantine of Walla Walla to reinforce Castle Campscapell and wondering if it could, just possibly, be a scheme to get his own troops inside that Crown fortress when a quick tap on the door broke into her concentration.

“Come.”

Her senior squire Armand Georges poked his head in.

“Urgent dispatch, my lady Grand Constable.”

“Another?”

She managed to keep most of the sound of resentment out of her voice; this sort of thing went with the job.

“What is it this time?”

“Sir Guelf Mortimer of Loiston . . . did a bunk.”

“Shit! A bunk?”

“Fled. Scarpered. Twinkle-toed into the wild blue distance. Absent without leave . . .”

“All right.”

Tiphaine snapped her mouth shut, and squeezed her eyes shut for an instant. She’d parked him out at Hermiston to keep him on ice while the Gervais problem was dealt with. On the other hand . . .

“Tell me how Guelf pulled it off.”

He shrugged. “From what we’ve managed to piece together, he conned each of the back-scouting parties into believing he was with the other one. Unfortunately for him, Sir Thierry Renfrew ran into a CUT probe down the Columbia. He fought and called for reinforcements. That’s the train that arrived at four this morning with the wounded. Chenoweth called up Mortimer’s picket. They had some trouble finding them. He finally tracked them down late yesterday. Guelf left early on the nineteenth.”

“Days! He could be anywhere by now.”

“But there’s not much doubt where he’s headed. Gervais.”

“Yes.” She frowned. “That getaway was a lot more subtle than Guelf’s usual level. But heading for Gervais is putting his head on the block and even he should have been able to see that. Uncharacteristically smart, then bone-stupid even beyond his usual.”

“Offhand, I’d say that means he’s being used as a puppet, and by someone who doesn’t care about the consequences for him.”

“Good analysis.”

She smiled then, and even Armand blinked, though he’d been one of her operatives for years.

“I was hoping to keep the Gervais problems on hold, but the operation’s ready to go. And Guelf has just delivered himself into my hand. Desertion in the face of the enemy!”