Inger smiled weakly. “That’s supportive. A little oblique, but supportive.”

“I’ll go with you. Captain, how about half a dozen men, just to stay close?”

“Very well.” The captain called names. Inger started forward. Michael nudged his mount, caught up, smiling into the teeth of the rising wind. The six men hurried after him.

There was enough light round the gate, from torches in the mob and lights on the wall, for Inger to be recognized. Word spread quickly. Rioters quieted, gawked. Agitators gulped and fled into the shadows. People backed out of Inger’s path. A few dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Someone atop the wall had the presence of mind to sound trumpets and add to the impact.

The mob began dispersing as the gate opened and twenty Guardsmen came forth. They began departing even faster when Michael took out a scrap of paper and nib of charcoal and pretended to be noting names. It was one moment when his reputation was a positive. As they passed beneath the wall, Trebilcock said, “They’ll spread the word. Things will start calming down. If a good storm breaks, so much the better. They’ll go home to get out of the rain.” Distant thunder punctuated his final remark.

“I hope so, Michael. I saw enough getting here to last me a lifetime.”

“Get used to it if you’re going to be Queen. These things happen. I’ve never figured out why. It’s like Vorgreberg has a fever it has to purge every so often.”

A Guardsman rushed up to Michael. “Captain Trebilcock. Doctor Wachtel would like to see you immediately.”

“About Prataxis?”

“Yes sir.”

“How is he?”

“Still breathing, sir, but that’s about all.”

“I’ll be right there. Captain, you know what to do. Inger, you want to start taking charge?”

“What about Fulk? Michael, it worries me, leaving him out there with only two women to watch him.”

Michael smiled gently. “You might send some of your people to collect him, Your Majesty. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course.” Inger dismounted and marched across the courtyard, toward the great audience chamber. The regal hauteur came over her. Michael heard her give orders to the nearest Guardsmen. He smiled again.

“She’ll do,” he murmured. “She’ll do. Now, if we could do something about her cousin….” He hurried inside, toward Wachtel’s quarters.

Prataxis was conscious when he arrived. A weak smile flickered across the old scholar’s lips. “Took you long enough,” he whispered. “Is she all right?”

“Fine. And taking charge. We’ve got the troops moving again. Looks like there’ll be rain to help.” Michael glanced across Prataxis, his question unspoken. Wachtel shook his head.