Still on his knees, he crossed his arms on his chest and bowed toward the prince while repeating the ritual words of Declaration.

“Your Highness, the obligation of service is mine, as it belongs to each of us. With our service, we become the pillars holding up the emperor, who rules the Tranquil Empire with a merciful and just hand, as it is ordained under the High Heavens. With honor and honesty, with duty and gratitude, I, Kem Aovingson, Manor-born by the seed of Lord Duenn of Duenn Manor, pledge my labor and my life to the imperial wardens. Let it be recorded that my Declaration has been spoken and accepted at the hand of His Highness Gevulin, Prince-Warden of the Imperial Order of Wardens, Exalted General of the All-Seeing Eye, Captain of a Thousand, Adept of—” He recited, word for word, the interlocutor’s entire lengthy introduction for the prince, having a capacious memory for things that interested him. “May the Heart of the Tranquil Empire and the Strength of its Emperor shine unto All Eternity beneath the Implacable Mercy and Gracious Justice of the Heavens.”

It was so hard not to let her face show the gloating triumph she felt in every fiber of her flesh. Watching Duenn stalk out of the courtyard, Elen hoped his sweating and seething presaged an apoplectic fit that would fell him frothing to the ground in a spasm of fury, but alas, it was not to be. Lord Duenn was exactly the kind of evil-minded and power-drunk man who escaped unscathed from every encounter. He and his retinue vanished beyond the arch. All that was left was the sound of his voice, raging at his own people, since he had no one else to yell at. Even those shouts faded as they retreated to their assigned rooms in the Residence.

A peaceful hush descended.

The prince gave the sword back to Simo. He spoke to his people. “I don’t have time to deal with Duenn Manor now. We need to move quickly. Ipis, you’ll be in charge of the novice. Hemerlin, find the young man an appropriate duty uniform in our baggage. But do it once we’ve camped for the night, as I intend to accept the intendant’s offer of a guide. We will take the route over the Moonrise Hills.”

“The imperial suite awaits you, Your Highness,” said the intendant so smoothly and expressionlessly that only those who knew him best could see a crimp of expectation on his lips. He was angling for a reaction.

“It does not, for we leave at once.”

The intendant’s feigned shock did not fool Elen. “At once? But it is late in the afternoon, Your Highness.”

“There is still light for our journey. I intend to push forward.”

“I cannot recommend—”

“I did not ask for your recommendation.”