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for Deucalon, Quaeryt, and Vaelora to join him in the reception room, although once there, he did not seat himself.
    “Marshal, what are your thoughts?”
    “They’re like all functionaries. They’ll accept matters as they are going to be, and they won’t openly oppose you. For now, they won’t even do so behind closed doors. They will strive to position themselves favorably.” Deucalon cleared his throat. “You’ve never said about High Holders…”
    “That’s because we don’t have a complete accounting yet. It appears as though close to fifty High Holders were killed in the battle of Variana and the aftermath. Most died when the Chateau Regis froze solid.” Bhayar smiled. “That worked out rather well, because the majority of those were those closest and most loyal to Kharst.”
    “From what I observed during the campaign,” said Quaeryt, “those most loyal to Kharst would most likely be High Holders of the kind least disposed to an honest and direct ruler.”
    “Deucalon,” said Bhayar, nodding to the marshal, “and I made similar observations from what we saw. That is another reason for dispatching Submarshal Myskyl to the north and west and Submarshal Skarpa to the south. Until they return, we will not know how many high holdings there are in which we will have to replace the holder. There will certainly be those who will need to be replaced with more reliable and loyal High Holders. Such replacement will have to wait until all is largely settled, but it will happen.”
    “I can see that,” said Deucalon, “and I am glad to hear it.”
    “I’m sure you can, and I’ll be taking your counsel in that.” Bhayar smiled at Deucalon. “I’ll be walking back to my quarters with Vaelora and Quaeryt.”
    “Yes, sir.” Deucalon smiled politely, bowing slightly before turning and departing.
    “That went about as well as it could have,” observed Bhayar.
    “You’ve been having dinners like that for weeks?” said Quaeryt.
    “Not every evening, but more than I’d like. How are your imagers doing?”
    “They all recovered far more quickly than I did. Would you like me to see if they can make some repairs to Amalyt’s anomen?”
    “If it does not strain them for the journey west.”
    “Are you sending them all with me because I’ll need them, or because you want to see how matters are here without us around?”
    Bhayar shrugged. “There are reasons. Those are some of them. Imagers are another form of power. I’d like to believe that they’re the kind of power the Pharsi can respect.”
    “Once the imagers are settled, they should wear gray.”
    “Settled?” The Lord of Telaryn raised his eyebrows.
    “On the isle of piers,” Quaeryt reminded Bhayar.
    “Gray?” Bhayar frowned.
    “The black of mourning mixed with the white of ice. Call it a reminder of what the excesses of imaging can do. The imagers will need that reminder. So will a few others.”
    Bhayar looked at his sister. “He doesn’t give up, does he?”
    “You wouldn’t be here, dear brother, if he were a man who did.”
    Bhayar winced at the polite chill in Vaelora’s voice. “I can see I’m outnumbered.” He laughed softly. “The isle of piers and gray uniforms it is, but only after you and I—and Vaelora—are all agreed that matters are settled. Is that all?”
    “For now,” said Quaeryt cheerfully.
    “I fear I may hear that from you two for some time.”
    “It was your idea that we wed,” said Vaelora sweetly.
    “It was a good idea,” replied Bhayar, “but even the most beautiful rose has thorns, and the most useful knife can slice the user.” He walked toward the door. “Tell me what you expect from the Pharsi while we walk back to our quarters.”
    “They will expect to be treated with respect, and most likely, as you pointed out, many of those on the High Council will be women. They will be leery of a strange Pharsi officer from Telaryn, but Vaelora will help…”
    By the time they reached the