It would have had to be, de Vaux thought, a handsome fee. Barthelmy’s own grievance against the duke, if it was real, was what would have made him more likely to agree. The passage of years was still a difficulty. Money, the provost thought. Enough money offered could bridge those years.

And he wouldn’t have known he had been chosen to be a sacrifice if—when?—someone needed to be identified, and captured. Barthelmy wasn’t clever enough for that.

And no one who’d worked with him, or paid him, could be tied in any way to the man who seemed to be at the heart of this plot. Of that, the provost was certain.

They might not even capture Barthelmy. It was likely the man had left Orane by now, probably with most of the others from last night. De Vaux had a good idea where they were likely to have ridden in the darkness once they were outside the walls. City gates could be closed and guarded, but there were always ways in and out of a large city if you knew it well enough, and had resources.

De Vaux was very uncertain the tall soldier—or any of his men—would be allowed to live. Screens and deceptions could be penetrated, after all. Torture was always available to the provost and the court. Why take a chance, even if you had hidden yourself behind other men? The assassins were insignificant, but their survival could become a weakness, if he was correct about who had hired them.

De Vaux still hoped to be wrong. The poet had asked him, before walking out, if he thought the court would even want a powerful figure named. “Half,” he had answered. Which was truth, as he understood this court. What he was not certain about was if he—or Ferrieres—could survive if he proved it. And revealed it.

He’d been ferociously busy all day, serjeants hurrying in and out bearing reports, then sent forth again to find or generate others. The fire was kept high, warming the room.

Justice, the provost of Orane kept thinking through a challenging day, was not always obvious. You could pursue it dutifully and lead a country to ruin. Or you could consider terrible consequences and…leave this alone?

The assassins were unknown, he could easily report. Had likely fled in the night. He might lose his position, almost certainly would, since someone would need to be blamed, but…

But they had a king who was frequently mad, locked away in the palace, held down at times, shouting and biting, so that he could be decently cleaned and groomed. They had enemies across the channel north, bitter rivalries within. And the king’s brother and regent was the man de Vaux had seen lying hacked and dead last night. The ripples of this went out into a wide, dangerous world.