His eyes flickered only briefly to the scar on her forehead, and his own smile did not slip at all. “Whichever it is, you are as beautiful as ever.” Nimbly done, since she wore a shapeless bag of a nursing dress, was bleary from lack of sleep and not painted or powdered at all. Her old clothes fit her no better than her smile. She had tried to squeeze her mother’s body into one of her looser dresses a few days before and could hardly believe how thin she must once have been.

Kort took her hand in his slightly damp paw and kissed her warmly on one cheek. One would never have guessed that he had once tried to cheat her, while she threatened him with rumour, ruin and finally actual violence. But the warmth of their greeting only showed what excellent people of business they both were. One simply must forgive, after all, when there are profits on the table.

“How is your husband?”

“He is…” Crippled, struggling to find a place for himself, ground down by pain and burning with anger. “Adjusting to his injuries.”

“Yet I’ve never seen him absent from the Assembly, rain or shine. He proves to be a fine speaker.” Kort smiled beneficently down. “And this is?”

“My daughter, Ardee.” Savine felt absurdly proud of her children and delighted in showing them off, even to people whose opinions she could not have cared less about. “Named after my mother. And almost as demanding.”

“I am an engineer, and don’t always see the appeal in babies, but this…” And he poked one thick finger at her. “This is a well-favoured infant!”

Little Ardee had only just begun to focus her eyes, but she focused hers on Kort’s ruddy face now with her mouth suspiciously pursed. Evidently an excellent judge of character already.

“And this is my son, Harod.” Savine led Kort to the other cot. “Named for Leo’s father.”

“Not for the first King of the Union, then?”

“I doubt that would be in keeping with the times.”

“Certainly our most recent monarch finds himself short of support. Aside from a few die-hards in the east of Midderland, no one even bows to him any more, let alone kneels.”

“We are all equal now…” Though it had not been long ago that Savine had knelt before the king to beg for her husband’s life, and not long before that she had knelt before him in Sworbreck’s office for… other reasons.

“I hear they have him shut up in six rooms of the palace, under constant guard,” Kort was crowing. “He has to ask permission to use the latrine. Imagine that!”

Savine did not care to. Orso had shown mercy to her and her husband, however little they deserved it. More mercy than she would have shown, in his place. She wondered what the future held for him, as the Breakers tightened their grip. As people forgot the past. As they needed him less and less as a reassuring figurehead. Her brother, Orso.