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first spoke only to each other.
    “It is clear, my lord,” Mahieran said to her as servants produced a fish course, “that having you among the Council will ensure no dull days.”
    Dorrin shook her head. “I shall hope to bring no more excitement, my lord.”
    “I suspect you and that paladin have something in common,” Mahieran said. “You cannot help what you are, and what you are is change.” He chuckled. “I daresay this Coronation Day will never be forgotten, and since it turned out well in the end, the celebration’s all the sweeter.”
    But was it the end? Dorrin kept waiting for something else to happen: a servant to leap at the king with a bolt of power or a carving knife, the taster to fall dead of poison, one of the peers to attack her.The banquet went on smoothly, servants bringing in course after course, pouring the different wines, offering warm damp towels at intervals. Musicians played, jugglers and acrobats performed, a chorus of Girdish yeomen in their formal blue and white sang a deafening “O King Below, O Gods Above” to the accompaniment of trumpets and drum. Dorrin recognized the tune as one her troops had marched to, with very different words, some of which ran through her mind.
    A stab of nostalgia smote her, but would she really be happier to be back in the field than here? She looked across and down the table draped in Tsaian white, rose, and crimson, glittering with crystal goblets, gold and silver plates, the peers in their many colors, their lace and jewels, the hovering servants in palace livery. Back there she’d had less luxury but the company of true friends. Here she might find new friends and clear her family’s reputation. After all, she’d saved the king’s life already, and that had to count for something.
    She wondered what Paks would think. Paks, she suspected, would tell her to follow what Falk wanted, as any Knight of Falk should. Falk—when she tried to ask—said nothing. This was more Falk’s world than Gird’s, this magnificence and luxury, and Falk probably expected her to be comfortable with it. The next course was roast venison spiced in a way she’d never tasted. She finished the meal laughing at herself and her internal dialogues while Duke Marrakai talked horse breeding with Duke Mahieran.
    “How did my horse carry you in the procession?” Marrakai asked her suddenly. “Did he give you any problems?
    “None at all,” Dorrin said.
    “Good. I’ve taken care that he’s ridden by others regularly, so he knows he’s to behave. But he will try things, even with me.”
    “We had them all prancing and showing off,” Duke Mahieran said. “I’m not sure if m’lord Verrakai asked for everything he did or if it was his idea.”
    “Both,” Dorrin said. “I thought it would keep him busy, and if he offered more, I made use of it.”
    “What concerns me now,” Duke Marrakai said, “is the security of the royal stables and stud.”
    Duke Mahieran nodded and turned to Dorrin. “Is it likely othergrooms could have been taken over? Do you have any idea how long the transference has been going on?”
    “A very long time, my lord,” Dorrin said. “I looked only at the current family book, for those I thought would be alive now. When I glanced back, the same symbol was used as far as I looked. The worst of it is that some have been transferred more than once.”
    Duke Serrostin spoke up. “My lords, this is a matter of state; perhaps it should be deferred to Council.”
    “It is urgent,” Mahieran said.
    “Indeed. And this is a banquet hall with more ears than ours.” His gaze flicked briefly to the king’s table, where Prince Camwyn sat, cheeks flushed from unaccustomed wine. “Unless Duke Verrakai perceives another immediate threat, I suggest we confine our topics to those appropriate to a celebration.”
    Mahieran raised his glass. “And I salute your wisdom, my lord.” He turned back to Dorrin. “At the Council meeting tomorrow, you’ll