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son, tall and fit, with a full head of dark hair. He had a certain charm which reminded Mia of thieves and rogues in the old stories who managed to talk themselves out of every difficulty.
    “How you must miss dear Tella!” he said. “Such a wonderful woman she was. And such a fine horsewoman. I remember a particularly spirited grey she had at one time, and she rode with such style! I could barely keep up with her. There was one occasion when we went east, and…”
    Mia recalled that he had always got on well with Tella, although they met rarely. They had certainly had a rapport, both of them being lively, physical people. Since he was a strong horseman, they had often ridden out together when he visited the Karning. Such memories were too much for Jonnor, who leapt up and dashed out of the room.
    “He was fond of her, then?” his father remarked, one eyebrow raised. “But then she was so captivating, everyone must have loved her.”
    Jonnor’s mother was very different, plain-faced and as thin as a stick, who sat in pinched silence during the mourners’ official ceremonies. Mia was surprised when she asked to walk round the ladies’ garden.
    “Now, my dear,” she said, wrapping Mia’s hand around her bony arm. “We must have a chat, for you will be lead wife now, you know.”
    “Oh. Yes, I suppose I will be.” Of course she had thought about it. How could she not? At last she would move upstairs, and perhaps Jonnor… She was annoyed with herself for blushing.
    “Why, my dear, you look…! Surely you have…? You mean you are still not active? Well! How old are you now? Twenty -one? Twenty-two?”
    “I’m twenty -five.”
    “My dear! But you know, it was only supposed to be three years that you were downstairs. Such a child you were then, everyone thought it was for the best. But we never intended… We’re not living under the Petty Kings, you know, there’s no need to lock yourself away from men altogether. Oh, such pretty leaves, such an unusual colour!” She stopped, fingering a small bush beside the path. Mia stood in silence until she moved on.
    “I suppose none of the Companions appealed to you? No? Well, perhaps you’re right. These Skirmishers, they’re built like trees and with brains to match, most of them.”
    Mia tried to keep her expression blank, but it was hard not to be insulted. She was a Karningholder and a Higher, her role to be a wife to her two husbands, not to amuse herself with the Lower-born Companions. It was permitted, for they were a part of the marriage too, but such dalliances held no attraction for her.
    Jonnor’s mother rattled on, without waiting for an answer. “And Jonnor never wanted to change things? But I suppose he had his reasons.”
    “He was always very content with Tella,” she murmured.
    “Indeed, indeed. And so he kept you downstairs. Oh goodness, is that a moonrose?” She dived abruptly off the path into a weedy area of shrubs. “I’ve never been able to grow them, you know. How did you do it?”
    “It just appeared,” Mia said. “This garden does whatever it wishes.”
    “Oh, mine’s the same,” Jonnor’s mother said. “It’s hopeless, nothing but root vegetables grow so far south. Even so – a moonrose! A pity I won’t be here to see it flower. Where were we? Oh, yes. So – you never wanted to be made active? You could have asked any time after the three years. You never thought of that?”
    How could she possibly explain it? The waiting, hoping that Jonnor would tire of Tella, or at least hunger for some variety. Then Tella’s increasing volatility, and the fear that a change would be too disruptive. They’d had such a fragile arrangement, Tella and Jonnor, but it worked, if they were left to themselves.
    Then there was Hurst, who had never shown any signs of wanting to move upstairs. Well, he had other outlets, he didn’t need a wife in his bed. And if they were all upstairs, there was no knowing how things might end up. Not