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weight out there in the wilds—very good."
    "Aunt!" cried Sarai, fiery roses appearing in her cheeks.
    "And black makes you look sallow," Nuritin told her, adding insult to injury.
    Aly ducked her head to hide a grin.
    "Dovasary," Nuritin said, an actual smile on her thin lips. "Black is not your color, either, my dear."
    "It is mourning, Aunt," Dove explained. "I don't think you're supposed to look becoming in it."
    "That is one of the things that has changed," Nuritin said crisply. "Her Royal Highness the princess regent ordained five months ago that full mourning was disrespectful to the Black God, who takes our dead to the Realms of Peace. She ordered that all the court put off full mourning for Kings Oron and Hazarin. The only mourning permitted to any member of the court is a discreet black armband, and perhaps black embroideries or trim. No black gowns. No black tunics. No black veils. We are to wear colors that rejoice for the peace of the dead."
    "Meaning Imajane looks dreadful in black and won't wear it if she doesn't have to," Sarai remarked with spite.
    Nuritin nodded. "Naturally. But it is a royal decree, with the king's seal attached. You must all put off black at court, or for that matter, anywhere that the regents may appear. It has been suggested that they will regard mourning as a sign of rebellion."
    "Aunt," said Winnamine quietly. Everyone looked at her. The duchess stood, arms folded. "You said you had dresses made up. You sent seamstresses up to our family rooms. And there are these!'
    She indicated two open chests. One was filled with money and topped by a clutch of parchments. Aly sharpened her magical vision to read the first of them: it was a letter of credit, issued to the duchess. Next to it was a much smaller chest that bore the crest of the duchess's own family, the Fonfalas. It, too, was open. It held jewellery: gold chains, necklaces, eardrops, and strings of coloured pearls. Most were in old-fashioned or broken settings.
    "The Fonfalas sent those," explained Ulasim. "They gave their permission for us to melt down the pieces and sell the stones, but we thought we should wait for you to decide."
    "And the servants?" asked Winnamine, glaring down at Nuritin. "Where did they come from?"
    Ulasim cleared his throat politely. Everyone looked at him. "Many of our new servants come from Lady Sarai and Lady Dove's grandfather, the baron Temaida. The servants are paid by the Temaidas, and clothed by them." He met Winnamine's startled look with a reassuring one of his own. "This is family policy among the raka nobles, Your Grace. When a Temaida girl comes of age at sixteen, she receives a staff of her own, because marriage alliances mean so much to the raka nobility. They want their daughters to appear to advantage."
    "Very sensible," said Nuritin with a nod of approval. Slowly Winnamine sat again.
    "Your Grace, you were Lady Sarugani's best friend," Chenaol added, referring to Sarai and Dove's mother. "You should remember it is the custom."
    Ulasim continued, "They were unable to manage it last year, so they fulfill their duty to their kinswomen this year. The baron sent his regrets that he will not be coming to the city for some time, or he would call on you personally, but he knows that you will treat his granddaughters well."
    Meaning last year they were afraid to help the Balitangs when they were out of favour, and this year they don't want to draw attention to their presence, Aly thought. Who can blame them? I wouldn't want to belong to the raka nobility of the Isles. It's like living with a knife at your throat. And Ulasim can't tell Her Grace that the Temaidas know Sarai may be queen soon. They're the ones who secretly carried the Haiming royal blood for three centuries, to give it to Sarugani, and then to Sarai and Dove.
    Aly hand-signaled Fesgao, out of the Balitang ladies' line of sight: These new people have been investigated? Her pack would have checked them, too, but Aly was