And he’d bought a palazzo here. A statement made with that. Had hired one of his own northern artists—van Leyland, working just then in Rhodias—to paint him frescoes there, and had his people choose an architect to renovate the place. There were advantages to being seen as a player in the politics of clerics and High Patriarchs. Also, he liked the art he saw everywhere in Rhodias. He had never been beautiful like his cousins, but he had taste, and could let these people know it. They had made him endow a sanctuary, as well. Of course they had. Van Leyland would decorate that, too.

But as to the Barratin wealth…the great victory over Angland’s vicious king (he had admired King Hardan, kings needed to be ruthless in the world as it was)…well, that complicated affairs back home, too.

Laurent de Barratin, with his palace in high-walled Berga and his busy ports on the sea, depended so much on wool from the north coming steadily across the channel to work with and send on as finished goods. His stature, his ability to pay his army, defend his cities and his family, came from the textile trade. They exported fabrics everywhere—through Batiara, yes, and all the way to Sarantium, bringing back silver and gold, jewels and spices, artists and stone carvers and philosophers, and so much else.

Almost enough money to have led him to the throne in Orane.

It still might, if all went as it yet could.

It might be a more delicate dance now. Steps to be determined, music not yet clearly heard. He could not easily rebel against King Roch. Things were not the same as they were in the iron cold of winter. Then there had been room for him to move. To step forward. Vanquisher of a tax-crazed tyrant. Hero of the people.

Not now.

A different dance, undeniably, but Laurent de Barratin could almost hear a new music playing, almost see what he needed to do.

But then there came events in Rhodias, Jad curse it, and curse all clerics living in and around the Patriarchal Palace, grotesque with avarice and lust. Events no one could possibly have predicted or controlled. It was, he would think furiously, unfair. Why were things never fair for him, from childhood on?

—

No one in Rhodias liked the axe-faced Duke de Barratin. Cold-looking northern features, narrow nose, hard eyes, hard voice, even when apologizing on orders from Ferrieres, and agreeing to build a new sanctuary here.

The problem, it was agreed, was that he might be an ugly, unpleasant man, but he was powerful and important. And shrewd. Also, there was the fact that the Council of Twelve in Seressa had made it clear that Barratin needed placating because a great deal of money flowed from his lands in trade.

The Patriarchal Palace was sensitive to situations where a great deal of money flowed.