She felt filthy when Wolf left.

She did wonder why the man seemed so slimy, creepy, and repulsive. He did nothing to validate that.

Nathan Wolf, wounded, reached the Breitbarth castle two days later than he should have without having run into trouble. He was afoot. He was the second member of his band to get through, and the last. He arrived to find that the cavalryman who had preceded him had expired before he could explain what had happened.

The Duke himself came to see Wolf. The sorcerer Babeltausque was dressing his wounds. “What the hell happened, Nathan? The other guy thought he was the only survivor.”

“An ambush, Your Grace. I didn’t get a good look. Marena Dimura bandits, I guess.”

Babeltausque said, “He’ll be fine if there’s no sepsis. Gister Saxton told the same story.”

“The Marena Dimura haven’t done anything since Abaca died. Why change now?”

Wolf mumbled, “I don’t know, Your Grace.” He tried to explain why he had come instead of Gales.

“Ah. Possibilities suggest themselves. Gales either stepped out of the equation deliberately, was ordered out by Inger, or was removed by someone else. That seems most likely. So. Why? To get rid of Gales? Or to move Nathan up a notch?”

The sorcerer said, “That is a pathetically long stretch.”

“Meaning?”

“I believe in the malicious mischief theory of providence. My hypothesis? Gales went out drinking and got mugged, or killed, by somebody who didn’t know who he was.”

“A twist on ‘It’s not conspiracy if it can be explained by stupidity’?”

“Exactly.”

Greyfells stared at Wolf. “Nathan has done well, Babeltausque. Remove the curse.”

Wolf frowned, confused, as he slid away into sleep.

The sorcerer frowned, too, but his scowl was born of irritation.

Nathan Wolf had offended Babeltausque years ago, without knowing it. He never did figure out why the whole world suddenly found him repugnant.

The sorcerer was not happy but he carried out his Duke’s will. He had too grand an idea of his own worth. He would not have survived with the Greyfells family if they had been able to attract a man with more talent and a better character.

Babeltausque schemed, but only in small-minded, personal ways. He did not put his employer at risk.

Dane of Greyfells appreciated that. “Babeltausque, you’ve served my family long and well. We should show our appreciation more fully. Do you have secret aspirations that we could make come true?”

The sorcerer was startled. He squinted at the Duke. Was he being set up for torment? The man was capable of amusing himself by baiting a dog.

Yet he could not keep from blurting, “I do, Lord. But I dare not state it. Punishment would be swift and harsh.”

“Come, now.” The Duke assumed his sorcerer had a secret vice. The breed had that reputation. And Dane of Greyfells had vices he dared indulge only rarely. “Go on. I guarantee your safety. And no one else will know.”