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clear as day, which is quite an accomplishment for an elderly man with failing eyesight in a darkened room. How do you interpret this?”
    “Of course there can only be one reason.” The High Bishop leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied look on his face. “It was truly a gift from the One-God for the good priest to be able to see clearly in his time of need.”
    “Yes, of course.” Thorold kept the contempt he felt from his voice and his face. That was one the many things that he despised about the High Bishop. His hold on his church was admirable, but the man’s faith in the existence of both heavenly and magical powers was at times far too literal.
    Oh, there certainly was magic, but it was not as widespread as people thought, at least outside of Aruntun. Thorold had spent a good part of his life investigating witches and he’d only ever come across one. Even then she hadn’t used her powers for the sixteen years that she’d been in his household and even his bed. But in the end she’d used it to help her brat, his bastard daughter, escape her fate. He’d killed her before she could do him any serious harm, thank the One-God. Perhaps that had been divine intervention.
    If Thorold ever found the girl he’d kill her too, as he should have when he’d had the chance. It was a pity he’d not known about the magic earlier though, when the girl was younger. It would have been easy to make a small girl, his bastard daughter, grateful to him for being generous and kind to her and her mother. He could think of dozens of uses for a pet witch - but it was too late now.
    “While I do understand your request for caution,” High Bishop Valden said. “I still feel we should …”
    “Thank you High Bishop,” Thorold cut him off with a wave. “I do know your position. You’ve been quite clear on that, but you’ll have to excuse me. I must attend to some other duties and no doubt you have your own affairs to conduct.”
    The High Bishop nodded. Then he picked up his wine glass and drained it.
    Thorold smiled when the High Bishop shut the door as he left. He was well pleased with how he was managing the king’s advisors. High Bishop Valden was well in hand. Duchess Avery of Aruntun, who rarely came to Kingsreach, seemed content with the reports he sent her way. Young Duke Ewart of Fallad was acclimating himself to his new roles of duke and husband and Thorold doubted Ewart would be in Kingsreach before the fall.
    That left Kane Rowse. The captain was proving to be more trouble than Thorold had expected. He had hoped that when Feiren Rowse stepped down as captain he’d be able to suggest someone more to his liking, but King Mattias had not listened to reason. There had been a Rowse as Captain of the Kingsguard for generations and Mattias would not be swayed from his choice. The only good thing was that, like his uncle, Kane was careful to limit his influence to issues that concerned the guard and the protection of the king and country. The Duke of Comack smiled to himself. The king’s health was failing more rapidly and when he finally succumbed to his illness there would be a new Captain of the Kingsguard.
     
    Kane moved to his place near the front of the hall, looked across at his Uncle Feiren and nodded. He’d just let the last of the expected Brothers in and had made sure all exits were sealed and guarded.
    The hall was in fact a cavern. It sat directly beneath the Rowse property and had been used as the meeting place for the Brotherhood of the Throne for centuries. Long ago, fast-flowing river waters had scoured out the large cave and the various tunnels that fed into it. Water had smoothed and rounded the rock walls and in the time since then, the floors had been polished by generations of Brotherhood feet. To this day some of the tunnels spilled out along the banks of the Seven River which, in early spring, flowed angrily through the center of Kingsreach, filled with runoff from the Seven Sisters mountain