Michael went to the window. He looked out, toward Fiana’s Tower. The arrow hadn’t been meant for anyone. “I don’t know anything about it, Inger. I will say this. The man who killed Karl was a hell of a bowman.”

Inger hissed, exasperated. “So Hunsicker told me. I don’t care. I do care about my life and the lives of my people. I didn’t bring them here to be murdered.”

“I’ll find out who did it. He’ll hang. Rest assured.”

Uncertainly, she asked, “What if it was Abaca? You’re always warning me about him.”

“Assassination isn’t his style. If he wanted you dead, he’d trump up some way to declare martial law, then bust in here and hang you before anybody could get in his way. It’s something like that that he’s been setting up. That’s why I wanted you out. No, I don’t think Credence did this.”

Confused, Inger said, “That little bitch Kristen, then. She hates me because of Fulk.”

“Maybe. Whoever, we’ve got to get you out of here. As soon as it’s completely dark I’ll take you to an abandoned manor north of the city. My own people will come in and pretend you’re still here. As soon as I make the arrangements, we’ll send you north, through Anstokin and Volstokin.”

“Why north?”

“Because the people trying to kill you won’t expect you to go that way. Because Credence won’t expect it. I’ve tried to make it clear I wish you no harm. Don’t force me to state my feelings any more openly. That wouldn’t be fitting in a servant of your husband.”

Inger gave him a confused look. She sat down. “How soon?”

Michael glanced out the window. “Have to let the night settle in. Say two hours?”

“Won’t all these people attract attention anyway?”

“They would if they all went. They’re not going to. Pick four or five. The rest stay and keep up the pretense.”

She gave him a hard look. “You sure you’re not trying to get me out where you can…?”

“Don’t be silly. If I wanted you destroyed I could do it right here. Credence would be glad to help.”

“Then why leave my people behind?”

“The attention. And, bluntly, as hostages. You mean much to me, Lady, but so does my duty to Kavelin.”

Inger’s face soured. “Duty. To Kavelin. I wish you knew how sick I am of hearing that.”

Michael shrugged. “The King believes in what he’s trying to do. Till he changes course, is succeeded, or I quit, my duty is to carry out his wishes.”

“I take it you don’t always agree with him.”

Michael looked out the window, at a bloody sunset. “Not always. But he makes policy. The rest of us execute it.”

“Prataxis makes policy. His pipe dreams are where Bragi gets his crazy ideas.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes.” You’re walking a thin line here, Michael, Trebilcock told himself. Be very, very careful.