Mortin started to reply. He stared over the Duke’s shoulder. His eyes got big. Gales stared too. The Duke spun. “Norath! What the hell are you doing here?”

A huge man stepped into the light. Behind him two tall, muscular bodyguards looked on with eyes like chips of ice. “Our mutual friend asked me to drop in.” Norath’s voice was high and squeaky, completely at odds with his physical size. Gales tittered nervously.

“I wish he wouldn’t keep trying to take things over.”

“He doesn’t see the alliance as on only when it’s convenient for you. And he has a special interest in this country. He told me to make sure you don’t screw it up, the way your family usually does.”

Sir Mortin rose, snatched up a sword. One of Norath’s bodyguards struck the blade from the knight’s hand. Red of face, the Duke said, “Take it easy. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“No,” Norath said. “Not friends, Dane. Allies. There’s a meeting tonight. I’ll attend as one of your party. You’ll tell no one who I am.”

“Whatever you say. But why are you here really? I thought you were tied up in Hammad al Nakir.”

“The opportunities here are greater.” He settled near the fire. One of his bodyguards took the best meat off the roasting spit and gave it to him.

The Duke fumed quietly, schemes of vengeance shaping in his mind. He wouldn’t endure humiliation from anyone.

Gales watched from outside the center of activity, wrestling his conscience for the thousandth time. Could he remain in service to a man who dealt with Magden Norath’s like? He had his debt, true, but didn’t he also have a higher moral responsibility? Wasn’t his debt, in fact, more to Inger than to Dane’s family?

Shortly after Norath appeared a messenger arrived saying that the commander of the Vorgreberg garrison had announced that the King was dead. Chaos ruled the city.

“Perfect,” the Duke said. “We can restore order and be hailed as saviors.”

The messenger added, “There’s also a strong rumor saying Ragnarson’s cronies have murdered the Queen and her son. The people think there’s no one to take over.”

“I will.”

“Legally, fool. Legally.”

Gales chuckled. The Duke’s scheme was so much dust if Inger was dead. All those years for nothing. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving soul. But his humor lasted only a moment. Inger was too dear a price for Dane’s embarrassment.

General Liakopulos led the way round west of Vorgreberg, to the barracks of the King’s Own, which lay outside the city wall. He found the troops demoralized and confused. He instructed their commander to assemble them.

“Men,” he said, “you’ve heard that the King is dead. You’ve heard the Queen was murdered. I give the lie to the latter right now. Her Majesty the Queen.”