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Piers. “And how do you plan to accomplish that? Lester’s dead, isn’t he?”
    “Yes, that he is, but perhaps someone else could win her confidence. Perhaps Lester had someone else helping him from our own ranks.” His hand landed on Caleb’s shoulder.
    “As you wish, Master,” Caleb said.
    Brice studied Caleb’s face—the downward turn of his eyes, the quiver of his upper lip, and the lack of regard for the locks of hair crowding his face. I can’t let him go alone. He’s afraid—genuinely scared. He must not be accustomed to face-to-face confrontations. “I’ll go with him.”
    “You will not,” Laedron said quickly. “You’ve already gotten yourself in enough trouble.”
    “Who will, then? You can’t let him do this on his own.”
    “It already carries a narrow chance of success if he’s goes by himself,” Laedron said. “I doubt she would believe a total of three of the few Dawn Knights left in town would be willing to defect.”
    “Laedron’s right, but I still don’t want Caleb going alone.” Piers returned to stand beside his chair. “Brice could go with him, but only to observe the happenings. I cannot do this myself, for she may be able to recognize me.”
    Laedron huffed, then threw up his hands. “All right. Just don’t get yourself hurt out there. Should she attack, bring word of it here. Do not act alone.”
    “Agreed.” Brice slapped Caleb on the back. “Ready for another adventure?”
    Caleb nodded, but he didn’t seem excited.
    “Then it’s settled.” Laedron turned to Jurgen. “What will you do?”
    “I am still having trouble believing what I’ve heard. It’s difficult for me to believe that Genevieve Forane would have ill intent toward me. That’s not like her.”
    “Explain, please.”
    “When I was still a member of the consulship, she was kind to me, to everyone with whom she had dealings. She aided me in every way, in everything I ever asked of her. It simply does not make sense.”
    “Perhaps she found someone else in power. You did say you were supposed to be the Grand Vicar,” Laedron said. “She may have been paying homage to the prince to get close to the king.”
    Jurgen gave him a long stare.
    “Pardon the expression. I only meant to demonstrate the point.”
    “I don’t believe it was that way. Believe me when I say that I think something has changed. That letter read nothing like the Genevieve Forane I knew before I left. Something’s changed.”
    “Either way, she’s placed herself on the other side of a fine line. We must consider her to be the enemy.”
    Jurgen threw up his hands. “Fine, then. I cannot argue based upon what we’ve been presented.”
    “So, what will you do?”
    “Tomorrow, I’ll go to the consulship to claim my seat.” Jurgen took a deep breath. “I want something from you, though.”
    Laedron appeared to be confused. “What could you possibly need from me?”
    “To go with me. To watch over us whilst we’re inside the Ancient Quarter and the Vicariate.”
    “Impossible.”
    Hearing the word cross Laedron’s lips gave Brice a strange feeling. Lae’s never said impossible before. What has gotten into him?
    Jurgen shook his head. “Not impossible.”
    “Then how?”
    “The militia commander, Dalton Greathis. If I were to write a recommendation, you would be hired on without reservation.”
    “Hired on? You mean the guard, don’t you? The militia?” Marac asked, displaying a dumbfounded expression.
    “Yes, my young friend.”
    “Won’t they figure us out, though? We’re not from here—not by far. Why would they believe us?”
    Jurgen grinned. “I’ve known Master Greathis for years—from my church duties and in personal life—and a recommendation from me would get you in the door. So long as you don’t say anything foolish, few questions would be asked. Besides, Heraldans are descendants of the original Midlander settlers—Sorbians and Cael’Brillanders. You look like them for the most part.