《The Blade That Cut the Mouse's Tail [Medieval Fantasy, Political Intrigue]》


 Chapter 0: Once Upon a Time

    ¡°Bear ye out no unkind deed upon the meek and fraught!


    All beasts upon the earth esteem, their stature matters not.


    Better to remove the hand that proves a wicked thought;


    The blade that cut the mouse¡¯s tail will not be soon forgot.


    And when that clever trim-tailed creature scales the tower wall,


    She will chew right through the old bell rope and send it to its fall.¡±


    From The Bellman¡¯s Elegy, Kuno of Yarbruck


    Mouse lay in her feathers, a mess of blankets at her feet, staring up into the dim. There was no sense in trying to go back to sleep now; the first fingers of daylight were already beginning to creep under her bed curtains.


    She sat up and pushed her way out through the thick embroidered hangings, crossing to her basin and splashing the sleep from her face before taking up a comb to pull through the thick dark hair that fell well past her shoulders. She looked at herself in the glass, wondering how anyone could possibly mistake her for someone of consequence, for anyone other than some dark-featured Toth girl hiding in the corners of the castle.


    There was a sound at the door, of someone drawing a fingernail across the wood. Mouse crossed to it at once and was greeted by a gap-toothed serving girl on the other side.


    ¡°I thought you should know, I¡¯ve just left her tea.¡±


    ¡°Already?¡± Mouse asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise and setting down her comb. ¡°The sun¡¯s scarcely up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal,¡± the girl smirked. ¡°You go down to the kitchens, and I¡¯ll see that Her Majesty is dressed.¡± Mouse held out an expectant hand to the girl, who in reply furrowed her brow in confusion.


    ¡°Your apron, then,¡± Mouse said without withdrawing her hand. The serving girl laughed.


    ¡°¡®Twas only a jest,¡± she said. ¡°Even I do not envy you the day you¡¯re about to have.¡± She leaned in close and lowered her voice. ¡°It seems our Lord Johannes has been on less than his best behavior,¡± she said just above a whisper. ¡°Caught creeping out of someone else¡¯s bedchambers less than an hour ago. Or at least that¡¯s what I heard.¡± Mouse tried to swallow the lump of disgust she felt in her stomach at the nobleman¡¯s untoward behavior.


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    ¡°As long as he wasn¡¯t in my wing, I don¡¯t care much what he does,¡± she murmured.


    She knew that she would be made to suffer the Empress¡¯s ill temper for one reason or another; what did it matter whether it was a lame horse, a corked wine, or the lascivious misdeeds of her favorite?


    Once the girl had left, Mouse pulled on a simple lilac gown and hastened herself to the Empress¡¯s chambers. If she was going to be punished, it would not be through any fault of her own.


    The Empress¡¯s eyes were dark and glassy as Mouse pulled a soft-bristled brush over the length of her thick, shining hair. The resemblance between the two women, though neither cared to acknowledge it, was accented by the contrast of the women to their right; the ladies, four or five of them gathered upon cushioned velvet stools in shades of blue and silver, were all light-eyed and fair-haired with delicate complexions resulting from a life spent largely indoors.


    The Empress was a sporting type, much to the dismay of the court, and preferred to spend her time shooting or riding, even if she did not hunt. The carelessness of her words and her actions were a direct reflection of one another, and though she bore her mother¡¯s southern features and her father¡¯s bold disposition, her brashness was entirely her own.


    ¡°The trouble is that he thinks far more highly of himself than I think of him,¡± she said now of the nobleman, Johannes, in a tone not untainted by bitterness. ¡°Though I suppose I could say the same for the rest of you.¡± The women about her did not know whether they ought to laugh or keep quiet¡ªall but Mouse, who always chose to remain quiet.


    ¡°Lord Johannes is a knave if ever there was one,¡± one of the ladies said, rather bravely, thought Mouse as she tucked a pin into the Empress¡¯s hair. The Empress turned to look at her, knocking a pin from Mouse¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Is that so, Lady Katla?¡± the Empress said in a tone with such measured coldness that all the warm of the room suddenly seemed to abandon it. Lady Katla laughed uneasily.


    ¡°I only meant, well, I¡ª¡± she stammered.


    ¡°Go on, dear,¡± said the Empress. ¡°Tell me what you meant when you called Lord Johannes a knave.¡± It was more a sneer than a smile that sat upon her lips as she looked at the golden-haired girl shifting uncomfortably on her stool. Lady Katla blushed in embarrassment but said nothing.


    ¡°I have always wondered, Lady Katla,¡± began the Empress, her tone disparaging in its formality, ¡°why a lady so lovely as yourself is not only unwed but has not yet received a single marriage proposal.¡± She paused to let everyone in the room take in her words. ¡°Now I see that it is not only because you do not think before you speak, but because you do not seem to think at all.¡±


    Mouse felt sorry for poor Lady Katla. But she supposed that sooner or later, the girl would have to learn that in order to stay in the Empress¡¯s good graces, one must venture nothing. It was a lesson she herself had learned quickly, and even at the cost of being called forever Mouse, she knew her life was in some small way better for it.


    ¡°Now then,¡± said the Empress with a smile, still looking at Lady Katla, whose eyes had fallen to the floor. ¡°Is there anything else you wish to say? Any other members of my court you would like to criticize?¡± Lady Katla shook her head.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± the Empress said, turning her attention back to the glass in front of her. ¡°Now why don¡¯t you go tell that knave Johannes to change his stinking clothes before breakfast.¡±

 Chapter 1: Mouse in the Tower

    Mouse sat in the corner of the council room, her eyelids drooping heavily in the unseasonable heat. The air of the chamber was stale and stifling, the windows closed tightly against a summerly breeze that would have been welcomed if not for the obvious threat of carrying council voices to unsanctioned ears. Her head tipped forward, bending to the oppressive warmth, before she was startled awake by the sharp bite of Ludger¡¯s staff driving into the top of her foot. The old man did not need to look at her to find his target; his aim was seasoned by frequent practice. Mouse winced at the blow, stifling a groan of pain, but knew that she was like to have to pinch herself to avoid yet another. She pulled herself up straight in her chair and trained her ears to the conversation passing around the large oak table in the center of the room.


    ¡°And what would Your Majesty propose?¡± one of the councilors was saying, a thinly veiled note of vexation in his voice. ¡°We have already increased taxes twice in a twelvemonth. To do so again¡ª¡±


    ¡°Spare me your indignations, Lord Cook,¡± the Empress¡¯s voice cut through the thick air. ¡°Unless you are prepared to start shitting gold, it will have to come from somewhere.¡± The High Treasurer¡¯s cheeks flared red at this, but he made no reply. Lord Cook had earned his nickname due to his well-fed stature and ample girth, with the Empress remarking that if he spent half as much time counting coins as he apparently did in the kitchens, the kingdom would be sure to have twice as much silver and thrice as much mince as it presently did.


    Mouse liked Lord Cook, and she did not think him so terribly fat. But it did not matter what Mouse thought; all that mattered was that when the Empress cut her hair, Mouse cut her hair, and when the Empress¡¯s caravan set out upon the road, it was Mouse who rode in the royal carriage and the Empress who sat safely among the linens.


    ¡°Majesty, may I suggest an alternative means of procuring the necessary sums?¡± Lord Eadic chimed in, his fingertips steepled together as he leaned forward in his chair.


    ¡°An alternative to what?¡± the Empress replied wryly, slouching back in her high-backed chair. ¡°Lord Cook laying us a golden egg out of his fat arse?¡± This drew laughter from the others seated around the table, and even Mouse was forced to bite her lip, but the High Treasurer¡¯s cheeks puffed out in anger and only Lord Rambert¡¯s hand upon his shoulder kept him from rising in fury.


    Lord Eadic waited for quiet before continuing, the fleshy tips of his fingers still pressed together. ¡°Majesty, it has come to my attention that the Chatti pay only for imports what the rest of the empire pays,¡± he said. ¡°And yet, these same imports come by way of Arosian roads, which, as I¡¯m certain you know, are costly to maintain. A modest increase in what they pay for foreign goods¡ª¡±


    ¡°As you say, Lord Eadic,¡± the Empress replied before he could finish. The hook-nosed councilor bowed his head, unable to suppress a smile of satisfaction from creeping onto his lips. Mouse did not care for Lord Eadic. He was calculating, she thought, not unlike the Empress, and even for his station, wore too much self-importance upon his sleeve.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Lord Cook protested urgently, ¡°I cannot concede that¡ª¡± But the Empress cut him off with an indolent yawn.


    ¡°That is all for today,¡± she drawled. ¡°I am tired.¡± And rising from her chair, ¡°Now for god¡¯s sake, somebody feed Lord Cook before his testiness becomes a matter of national consequence.¡± If Lord Cook was angered before, he was incensed by this, but his power of speech seemed to have abandoned him, and he sat in silent red-faced fury as the Empress made her exit. ¡°Have Dag ready Wind¡¯s Whip,¡± she said to the High Seneschal as she moved toward the door. ¡°I should like to go for a ride.¡±


    Though the perturbation of being adjourned so prematurely was plain on the faces of many of the High Councilors, Mouse, for one, was glad that the session had ended. She found sitting for hours in one of the hard wooden chairs of the chambers almost as uncomfortable as sitting a horse. Now she only need escape the Empress¡¯s notice, lest she be forced to take up the saddle and ride alongside her. However, before the Empress had made her exit, she chanced to look at her heel and notice the absence of her beloved blue hound. Peticru had left his post by the Empress to lie languidly in the corner of the room near Mouse, his paws twitching from time to time, as if in chase as he slumbered upon the cool stone floor. ¡°Up, you lazy dog,¡± Mouse whispered, nudging him with her foot in an attempt to rouse him before his master could miss him further. But Peticru merely picked up his head for a moment, looking at Mouse with all the indifference of a dog who had no better place to be than exactly where he was, before returning to repose.


    Lord Eadic, taking notice of this, quipped, ¡°Peticru may be no hunting hound, but he certainly seems to have become something of a mouser.¡± Some of the other Councilors laughed at the jest, and even the Empress¡¯s lips curled into a smile. But Mouse did not laugh. It was a stupid thing to say, she thought, made stupider by the fact that her name was not even Mouse. It was merely another of the Empress¡¯s unkind nicknames bestowed for her own amusement.


    ¡°Come now, my beasties,¡± the Empress beckoned, as much to Mouse as to the dog. But Ludger was quick to interpose: ¡°Perhaps Your Majesty can spare the girl. For, you see, it has come to my attention¡ª¡±


    The Empress silenced him with a hand. ¡°I have heard enough speeches from the mouths of old men for one day,¡± she sighed. ¡°Take her. Besides,¡± she smirked, ¡°it is just as well, for I dare say Johannes shall be eager to join me, even if it is the horse I sit astride.¡± And with that, she turned and departed.


    The High Councilors filed out the chamber, with Mouse, as usual, the last to leave. She hated attending council session. They were boring at best, and more often than not ended in flared tempers, offended sensibilities, and curses being slung back and forth across the table. They were grown men, all of them, learned and practiced in their respective spheres, yet they were often too busy vying for the Empress¡¯s favor to make any attempt to actually bring prosperity to the Empire. Worst of all, the Empress would sit at the head of the table with a supercilious smile upon her lips and some insensible witticism at the ready, as if it were not her own people who suffered for the ineptitude of her council. Though she was not yet twenty, she had already held the throne for three years, and for three years, Mouse had watched her disregard grow. The Empire had loved her father, and it was perhaps for this reason that she was able to hold her seat with so little resistance, but only a fool would fail to recognize that her sins would not go unpunished forever.


    But such was Mouse''s lot, for she was the Empress''s lady-in-waiting, and as perhaps the closest person to her, it was her duty to make herself intimately familiar with all the proceedings of the court. She did not only write letters and commit the names and faces of every nobleman and his mistress to memory, she was also required to attend every council meeting, every conference, and not just to listen, but to understand what passed therein.


    If enduring this all was not bad enough, Mouse would then be forced to sit in conference with Ludger, where he would prod her with questions, the answer to which she never seemed able to adequately produce and the point of which she could little understand, for his questions were of a far more critical nature than Mouse could think necessary. Though she spent much time under his instruction, Mouse could make no claim to be particularly fond of the old man, but at least, she reminded herself, he was a better jailer than the Empress, whose careless speech, changeable temperament, and unchecked arrogance were difficult to tolerate.


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    Mouse paused at the door for a moment, wondering what would happen if instead of following Ludger out into the hall, she were to yank the heavy wooden door shut behind him and force open one of the heavy glass windows. She wondered how long it would take her to drag a chair across the room, climb out the window, and scale the southern wall, making her way to the piked gate and darting through Sallowman¡¯s alley before disappearing down the cobbled streets of the village outside.


    But what then? she asked herself. How long would it be before she missed the safety of the castle walls, the warmth of her chambers, and the taste of food cooked by someone who did not suffer from a chronic case of pox?


    She could become an archer, she told herself, take up her bow and join a neighboring army. She had decent aim, after all. But that, she supposed, might require her to ride, and she gave up the idea almost as quickly as it had come to her. A fletcher, then, she thought. She did not mind working with her hands, and she would always have plenty of shafts. Perhaps she could even use the plumage of some exotic bird to fetch a handsome price for her work. She might not know how to fletch an arrow yet, but she could learn.


    Or, she wondered, she might simply travel about from land to land. She could meet interesting people from far away places. She could listen to their stories and sing their songs. She could sit at an inn or around a campfire rather than in stuffy council chambers and tedious banquets. But she did not have much time to wonder, for Ludger was waiting, and Mouse knew that the longer he waited, the more tightly his boney fingers would dig into her elbow as she walked alongside him down the hallway to his offices.


    ¡°Come, child,¡± his voice rasped impatiently as Mouse hesitated to cross the threshold. But at last, she steeled herself and stepped reluctantly through the door, past the guards. She could feel their eyes on her, her skin prickling with unease. The guards could not look at the Empress¡ªnot the way they looked at other women¡ªbut they could look at Mouse, and there was never a time she regretted the fact that her appearance so resembled the other than when she was the last to pass by them.


    The sound of Ludger¡¯s staff ringing against the stone floors echoed off the vaulted ceilings as the two strode side by side down the hall toward the Golden Tower. There was nothing lavish about the Golden Tower; it had been named not for its opulence, but rather, for the way the pale stone of the walls seemed to glow a warm golden hue in the light of the setting sun. It was far more beautiful outside than within, Mouse reflected, glancing at the untended braziers mounted on the walls, but she would take a golden sunset over a gilded gallery any day of her life.


    At last, the old man stopped at a tall wooden door, whereupon he produced a key from within his robes, and, leaning on his staff, waited for Mouse to unlatch the lock. She did not understand why he could not unlock it himself, but there were a great many things that Ludger did which she did not understand, and Mouse knew that asking too many questions would get her nothing more than a swift cuff of the staff and a bruised shin the next morning.


    Once inside, Mouse returned the key to the old man¡¯s wrinkled palm and climbed up into her usual seat in the window. It was her one small victory, to be able to sit against the glass and look down at the archery grounds below, hoping to catch a glimpse of some young yeomen at practice on the pitch. Noblemen practiced archery there from time to time as well, but they were not as fun to watch, or so Mouse thought, for they lacked the patience to do anything truly impressive and the imagination to do anything truly interesting. It was not just the way they practiced archery either. Mouse found nobles to be damp and disappointing almost as a rule. They all made the same pilgrimages, only to complain about the weather or the length of the journey. They all danced the same dances, only to whinge that their feet hurt and moan that the room was too crowded. Mouse found being in their company day and night nigh insufferable, but worse still was knowing that she was, in a way, one of them.


    Mouse had been orphaned in infancy and had never known her parents, but she had been brought up in the castle, along with some other distant cousins of the crown who were all of an age with the Empress. She had been brought to the young Empress with the intention that she would one day serve as one of her ladies, but it soon became clear that she was destined for something more. For while the other girls all stayed fair, only Mouse grew dark like the Empress, and it was not long before she had been singled out for the role she now occupied, not just as the Empress¡¯s lady-in-waiting, but also her decoy.


    Though Mouse had certainly never wished for such a life, she knew that things could have turned out much worse than they had. She could have been thrown out into the streets before she could walk or sold to some disgusting pig of a man. She could have been cast into the gutter of Sallowman¡¯s alley to starve or freeze or rot of some putrid disease. When she considered this, she had little of which to complain. But there were many times, especially as she grew to know the selfishness and unkind nature that hid beneath the Empress¡¯s regal exterior, when she felt little gratitude for the stars that crossed her, and she often wondered what her life might have been like if she had stayed fair like the other girls.


    ¡°What did you learn today, child?¡± The sound of Ludger¡¯s voice traveled across the room to the window where Mouse sat, but she did not bother to turn and face him.


    ¡°That the council is as useless as ever, and the Empress as impassive,¡± she answered, at once sardonic and sincere. But no sooner had the words left her mouth than she felt herself begin to shrivel under the embarrassment of her own fatuous remark. She looked down at her lap, ashamed of the bitterness which echoed in her words, and thought for a few moments before speaking again.


    ¡°Her Majesty is preoccupied with our current economic troubles,¡± she said at last, ¡°but she sees them only as temporary. That is why she is so willing to jeopardize our relationship with the Chatti, to make them pay more than what they rightfully should.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°She does not want to be bothered with seeking a long-term solution; she prefers to pass the problem on to those who cannot contest her rule.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Ludger grunted. ¡°And what do you think?¡±


    ¡°¡®Returns come only from investments, not remediations,¡¯¡± Mouse answered, quoting one of the tomes that sat on the shelf across from her. ¡°Expecting the Chatti to pay for the crown¡¯s unscrupulous spending will only serve to injure the peace.¡±


    The old man said nothing, and Mouse was left to wonder once again if she had just said something very stupid or whether she had said something of which the old man approved.


    His steely grey eyes seemed to consider her for a moment, and then he slipped a hand under the dark acacia desk, and when he pulled it back out, held something within it. It was a wooden box, one that, if Mouse was not mistaken, resembled that which the Empress kept on the painted table of her vanity. The old man rose from his chair, and walking around the side of the desk, held it out before placing it in Mouse¡¯s hands. Mouse looked down at the box, running a thumb over brass latch that held it shut. The wood was smooth and there was ivy engraved along the lid. She was overwhelmed with curiosity, but she dared not open it without being bade do so.


    ¡°Keep it safe, somewhere no one will find it,¡± Ludger said as Mouse traced a finger along the engraving of the lid, wondering what was inside, ¡°and after the next council meeting, go and fetch it before coming here. But do not carry it openly. You must conceal it. Do you understand?¡± Mouse looked up at him and nodded. ¡°Good,¡± the old man said. ¡°Now, do not open it until you have returned here.¡± Mouse felt a wave of disappointment at these words and nearly opened her mouth to protest. She was desperate to know what was inside, to know why Ludger had given this to her. But instead, she swallowed her disappointment and nodded once again at the old man, for if there was one thing Mouse excelled at, it was doing as she was told.

 Chapter 2: A Thorn Among Roses

    ¡°You¡¯re overdrawing,¡± Mouse heard Leifr call out from behind her. But his warning came too late, and the arrow slipped over her finger, sailing through the air and past the dummy without finding its mark. Mouse let out a sigh and reached for another arrow, nocking it in place and drawing her elbow back as she raised the bow. The wood gave a gentle groan as it bent to the tension of the string, and Mouse held her breath as the string pressed into her cheek.


    ¡°Tip of your nose, girl,¡± Leifr called. Mouse relaxed her right arm just enough so that the bowstring no longer touched her cheek. ¡°Aye, but keep your elbow up,¡± Leifr said. But again, his counsel came too late. Mouse loosed the arrow, and this time it found its way into the straw, but hung at an awkward angle far from the center. Mouse gritted her teeth in frustration but took up yet another arrow and drew again.


    She could hear Leifr trudging through the grass toward her. ¡°Elbow up, I said, not back,¡± he grumbled as he drew near. Mouse stood still, waiting for the feel of an exasperated sigh on her ear that she knew would soon follow. ¡°You¡¯ll have me hoarse,¡± the old archer muttered, kicking at her left foot until she straightened it and nudging her right elbow upward with a finger. ¡°Steady now,¡± he said, stepping back a few paces, ¡°and don¡¯t neglect to follow through.¡±


    This time the arrow came closer to the center of the dummy, but still farther than Mouse would¡¯ve liked. She dropped her arms and reached for another arrow, but Leifr stopped her. ¡°You¡¯ll not waste any more of my griffins,¡± he said with a frown. Mouse opened her mouth to protest, but he would not hear her. ¡°Come back when you¡¯ve put your eyes back in,¡± he grunted. And with that, he yanked up the quiver and strode off across the green. ¡°And don¡¯t forget to pick up your shafts!¡± he barked over his shoulder. Mouse watched him go, frustrated by his mulishness but more frustrated at her own ineptitude. She had not felt herself since her interview with Ludger the preceding day, so distracted had she become, and so overwhelmed with curiosity, and while she had hoped that a few rounds on the archery range would improve her state, it had only seemed to make things worse. In fact, the more she tried to turn her thoughts from the box that now lay tucked beneath her mattress, the more she seemed to dwell on it. She plucked at the string of her bow absentmindedly, cursing herself for raising Leifr¡¯s temper.


    Mouse had not always enjoyed archery. In fact, she had hated it at first. She hated everything she was made to do as a course of developing herself as closely to the Empress as possible; the Empress¡¯s love of shooting all but secured Mouse¡¯s contempt of it. But the Empress¡¯s natural skill for the bow meant that Mouse was forever trying to match her, and in doing so, had found that she was able to secure a few moments of solitude for herself from time to time, in the name of improving herself to the royal standard. Archery was a solitary sport and one that allowed her to be out of doors, free of the confines of courtly decorum. And besides, Leifr was one of the few people on the castle grounds that Mouse felt treated her kindly. That is not to say that he showed her any particular cordiality, as evidenced by his coarse manner some moments ago, and he certainly did not spare his words with her, but he treated her the way he would treat anyone else who stepped onto the range with a view of sharpening their aim. He helped her, in his own squally way, and Mouse was grateful for it.


    Mouse had risen early, finding it difficult to sleep, and she was the only one, save Leifr, on the range. She was glad of it now; there were fewer witnesses to observe her shameful performance. It was uncommon for Mouse to strike the dummy so seldom these days, and knowing that Leifr had been watching was painful enough. She could not have beared to perform so poorly in front of anyone else.


    ¡°Gods, have you ever seen such a crooked spine?¡± a voice came from behind Mouse, rousing her from her reverie. If the sneering sound of his voice was not enough to give Johannes away, his maliciousness certainly was. Mouse tried her best to ignore the preening nobleman coming up from the short end of the green, hoping that if she did, he would simply go away, though she knew the improbability of it. She had not noticed his approach, which was to say something of how fixed her mind was elsewhere, for he had an aptitude for making himself noticed; if she was a mouse, then he was a peacock, and no display of finery or feathery could requite his horrible squawking.


    ¡°It is no wonder he spends all his time on the pitch, he probably sleeps standing up,¡± he jeered, looking over Mouse¡¯s shoulder after the seasoned archer. It was true that years of practice had warped the bowman¡¯s frame, and his right shoulder sat decidedly higher than his left, but Mouse did not think him crooked; she saw this merely as a sign of his dedication to his craft, a kind of badge that, after countless hours of application, could not be removed. ¡°Is that the sort of man you like?¡± Johannes asked, leaning in so close to Mouse that she could feel his warm breath on her ear as he spoke. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll let you bend my back.¡±


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    Mouse looked down at the bow in her hand, wondering how hard she would have to swing it to break over the pompous aristocrat¡¯s cheek. Johannes was probably the only person in the world who Mouse hated more than the Empress. He was not just cruel; he was lewd and lascivious and repellant in every way. Worst of all, he was handsome, and he had managed, through pageantry and adulation, to gain the Empress¡¯s favor, meaning he was impervious to censure or decrees of common decency. Mouse was perhaps his favorite subject of torture, for not only was she captive to suffer his ill-intended advances, but any attentions paid her, no matter how undesirous, were certain to gain the notice of the Empress. So it was that Johannes had learned to stoke the flames of ire and invidiousness at once, and nothing, or so it seemed to Mouse, gave him greater pleasure.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir. I must unstring my bow,¡± Mouse said with every degree of composure she could maintain, hoping that he would not notice her hands quaking with perturbance. She did not like him to see that he had disquieted her, and though she felt there was little she could do to disguise it, she would not grant him an easy victory.


    ¡°I daresay, you do seem rather tightly strung,¡± he said, leaning closer and pressing himself against her, so that his chestnut hair brushed against her cheek. Mouse felt her skin prickle in irritation as she recoiled from his touch. Everything in her wanted to run, to flee, to put as much distance between herself and the oily, arrogant nobleman as possible, either that or to strike him so hard upon his pretty head that he could not remember why he had come to bother her in the first place. Though Mouse was tired of his misery and misuse, for now, she had no choice but to endure him. But there would come a day, she told herself, when the Empress would tire of him, when all the good grace which had been bestowed upon him would finally be exhausted and he would amount to nothing more than another common lord of the court propped up only by the Toth blood in his veins.  Then, and only then, would Mouse be able to stand up to him, to flout his advances, and perhaps return his grievances. It did not seem right to Mouse, nor was it, that the Empress¡¯s lady-in-waiting should be made subject to such daily tortures. She was Lady Maudeleine Toth, and all she had ever done was what had been asked of her, what she had been commanded to do¡ªnothing more, and certainly nothing less. Why then was she made to constantly cower and submit?


    But as Mouse¡¯s mind ran through all this, another thought suddenly occurred to her. Though some time had passed since she had climbed from her own bed, it was still early, too early for Johannes to be prowling about the castle grounds. He was often nowhere to be found until well past the time when the bell tower¡¯s shadow shrunk up to no more than an inch, and to see him on the archery green at such an unripe hour gave Mouse pause for concern. She pulled away from the pinching grasp of his fingers and turned to look at him.


    ¡°What is your purpose here, Johannes?¡± she asked, hoping to remind him that he may have matters to attend to which did not directly involve her own harassment. The nobleman¡¯s green eyes glimmered in the morning sun as they traveled across her face.


    ¡°I am to see a man about a horse, if you must know,¡± he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he lifted a lock of dark hair from her shoulder and spun it between his fingers. ¡°Oh, but don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not for you,¡± he smirked. He knew how much she hated riding. Everyone knew. Everyone had seen how she clung awkwardly to the horse¡¯s back like a leech, terrified of falling off. In fact, Ludger had told her more than once that her shameful riding would be the death of the Empress, for no assassin could possibly mistake the two when mounted, even if he was missing one eye and blind in the other. It was not that Mouse did not like horses, for she was fond of most creatures, whether great or small, but she simply did not find she had any business sitting atop one while it ran as though trying to outpace a violent westerly gale.


    ¡°If that is so, then I should not wish to detain you from your business further,¡± Mouse said, hinting to the nobleman and hoping that he would finally tire of his sport.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Johannes murmured, pressing the lock of Mouse¡¯s hair to his nose. ¡°Yes, I suppose I must be going.¡± He dropped her hair from between his fingers. ¡°But I look forward to seeing you at banquet tonight,¡± he said with a leer, ¡°and pray, wear something fetching, for I will certainly bring my appetite.¡± Mouse tried to suppress a look of disgust, at least until Johannes¡¯ back was turned, though she could not be certain of her success. Once he had gone, she finished unstringing her bow and watched him stalk across the grass, still wet with dew, to be certain he would not return. She stayed silent until she was certain there was no chance of his hearing her, and then allowed herself the indulgence of every common-tongued curse she had learned in the kitchens as she watched him go.


    It was now with a certain kind of dread that she recalled the evening¡¯s banquet, but perhaps, she realized it would not be so terrible as she imagined. After all, with so many new peers in attendance, the Empress would be busy making every due attempt to excite her guests, while Johannes would have as many ladies to philander as was like to occupy the whole of his attention. As for Ludger, Mouse hoped merely that he would drink himself to sleep at an early enough hour that she might sit and enjoy a cup of wine without anyone knocking her in the shin.

 Chapter 3: In a Banquet Dimly Lit

    Mouse looked down into her muddy cup of wine. She had sampled every dish laid upon the table, hoping that at least one of them would be poisoned, so that she might have an excuse to drop down dead and partake no more of this woeful nonsense. The wine had been her last hope, but alas, she found her liver was still as strong as ever, and worse, that the drink had done little to dampen her displeasure.


    The Empress had been late to arrive, meaning that Mouse had spent the first two hours of the even attempting to convince every half-blind feeble-minded lord in the hall that she was not the Empress and that there was, in fact, nothing she could do about the rising land taxes and the sudden increase in objectionable women making themselves known in the streets of every provincial town from Innswald to Yarbruck.


    It was a practice not wholly unfamiliar to her, but with as little sleep as she had had, it had proven more tiresome than usual, and all that she wished for now was the quiet of her own chambers and the comfort of her own bed. Instead, she sat in the dim light of the great hall, tracing with her gaze, for the hundredth time, the silver thread woven through the tapestries that hung upon the wall and counting the sprigs of thistle and mallow that decorated the tables.


    ¡°Sit up straight, child,¡± Ludger chided, trying to rap Mouse with his staff but as it happened, only sending a bowl of brown peas clattering to the floor. But Mouse was sitting up straight; she was always sitting up straight. The old man¡¯s eyes, however, had grown so glassy with drink that Mouse wondered if she did not look to him as if she were not only slouching in her chair, but perhaps floating about the room in it.


    ¡°Be quiet, old man,¡± said Mouse, knowing that the din of the banquet would drown out her words, ¡°or I¡¯ll have you heaved out the window.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Ludger garbled, his eyes squinting and head teetering as he leaned toward her.


    ¡°I said, it¡¯s quite warm in here,¡± Mouse shouted into the old man¡¯s ear. ¡°Perhaps someone should open a window.¡±


    ¡°Ah! Aha!¡± Ludger laughed in amusement. To this, Mouse only could only shake her head and pray that if the old man were to fall from his seat, he would not fall on her.


    To the other side of Mouse sat a number of the Empress¡¯s ladies. They were all fair-haired and finely dressed, and Mouse could hear them chittering about which of the lords in attendance were the most handsome and gallant and which the most roguish. Mouse had little to say on such a matter, for she was prepared to detest them all equally, but she did not think less of the others for it. After all, it was not as though they had no other matters to discuss, but they were clever enough to know that with so many in attendance, they had better guard their tongues and speak only of that which could betray no confidence and incur no possible offense. Johannes, Mouse saw, was bent over some flaxen-haired girl, pink with delight at the handsome nobleman¡¯s attentions. His eyes lifted from his object briefly, happening upon Mouse¡¯s as she looked his way, but she turned quickly, so as to avoid the waggish grin she knew would turn the corner of his mouth.


    The great hall was crowded with nobles, Mouse saw, even more so than usual, and the windows, which were set high into the walls and therefore had to be opened and closed by a pole, had been unsealed, allowing the cool evening air to offer sweet relief from what otherwise was like to be an oppressive warmth. The braziers, she noticed now, had not been lit, in consideration of the heat, but to compensate for the loss of light, the low brass chandelier that hung near the front of the room had nearly twice as many candles in it as usual, all burning brightly and casting strange dancing shadows across the pale stone floors.


    Ludger had prodded her, in one of their interviews, about what she thought of all the new faces at court. Mouse had ventured to guess that it was an appeasement on the part of the Empress, that the invitation was an attempt to placate and distract some of the nobles who may otherwise find themselves dissatisfied by the domestic downturn that had followed her father¡¯s death. And though Ludger had not contradicted Mouse here, he had hinted at other motivations behind the growing number of peers in residence. ¡°There will soon come a time,¡± he had said enigmatically, ¡°when the Empress will need all the friends she can get. And what better way to keep a flock than to bring it within the walls.¡± At this, Mouse had waited for Ludger to turn his back before rolling her eyes. She did not care for his riddles any more than she cared for the spindly white hairs that sprouted from his ears.


    Mouse swirled the sorry cup of wine in her hand and set it down upon the table without so much as a sip. She did not like the idea of losing her wits in such a setting. It made her feel exposed, somehow, vulnerable. She looked out across the hall, at the faces of a hundred people for whom she cared nothing and whom she was certain cared nothing for her, and wished that she could be down in the kitchens, where no one cared how straight she sat or how prettily she spoke or how much she looked like someone else.


    It was while she was wishing this that she happened to notice a young man whom she had not seen before at court. He was tall and lean and dark from head to foot, and Mouse felt her heart begin to beat ever stronger the longer she gazed upon him. He lifted his cup to his lips, when suddenly, as if drawn by her gaze, he stopped and looked back at her. Their eyes met, across the dimly lit hall, and Mouse watched the young man¡¯s features soften into a smile as he raised his cup to her. Mouse felt herself blush, and lifted her own cup to her lips, and suddenly wondered if perhaps she did not mind so much being at banquet.


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    But in due course, the Empress rose, calling her ladies to attend her to her chambers, and before they had even left the hall, Mouse could see that her eyes had grown dark with discontent, as they often did when she had had too much to drink. Mouse followed diligently with the rest, but kept toward the rear of the retinue, for she knew that too much wine meant that the Empress would be quick to anger.


    ¡°Away from me, wench!¡± Mouse heard her roar at the girl who had tried to lend her arm to steady the Empress. She recognized the girl as the flaxen-haired beauty whom Johannes had been entertaining, Lady Agatha she was called, and suddenly understood the cause of the Empress¡¯s wrath. The girl shrank away, hiding her tears in her sleeve, and walked the rest of the way down the hall with her eyes upon her feet.


    Once they reached the Empress¡¯s chambers, they were all of them dismissed, all but one. ¡°Away with you,¡± she bellowed. ¡°All but my Mouse.¡± Mouse swallowed a sigh of disappointment and followed the Empress through the heavy, gilded door of her bedchamber. It was not uncommon for the Empress to call for Mouse alone, especially when she was so deep in her cups as she was this evening. In fact, any time she was at all cross or tired or ill, Mouse was the most like to attend her. It was not because there was any love between the two, for Mouse doubted whether the Empress was even capable of love, but because Mouse had remained dutifully by her side these many years, doing her bidding and bearing her abuses without so much as a word of protest and without ever opening her lips as to what passed behind closed door. Mouse supposed that the Empress trusted her, in a way, though again, she doubted whether the Empress was truly capable of trusting anyone. Resent her as she may, there were times when she could not help but feel sorry for the Empress, for hers was a life even Mouse could not envy.


    The Empress threw herself down into the blue embroidered chair across her painted table and waited for Mouse to unclasp her jewelry and brush out her hair. ¡°Beggars, all of them,¡± she muttered as Mouse unfastened her necklace, placing it gently in a silver tray upon the table. ¡°Grasping, gaping fools. All the land in the empire could not satisfy them, nor all the food fill their greedy bellies.¡± Mouse remained silent, taking up an ornate ivory comb which she began to work through the ends of the Empress¡¯s long, dark tresses. ¡°No, they must have titles and consequence,¡± the Empress went on bitterly. ¡°They are nobles, after all, aren¡¯t they? Though I doubt if they could produce a single noble thought among them,¡± she scoffed. Mouse changed the comb for a soft-bristled brush of polished brass that she pulled gently over the Empress¡¯s hair. ¡°No wonder my father died when he did,¡± the Empress said in a low, sardonic voice. ¡°He was probably unwitted by mere proximation, his brain rotted from listening to such drivel as I¡¯ve just endured, and his lungs collapsed from uttering conciliations.¡± She pushed the brush away and stood, nearly knocking the chair over as she did, and raised her arms so that Mouse might undress her. Mouse set about the fastenings, quickly and deftly, before tugging gently at the dress and pulling it carefully over the Empress¡¯s head.


    ¡°What is it to rule over such mummery?¡± the Empress laughed as Mouse folded down the blankets of the bed. ¡°What is it to wear the crown when those who serve you seek only to serve themselves?¡± Mouse waited for the Empress to climb atop the feathers and settle herself among her pillows before folding the blankets up over her. She knew no answer was expected of her, so she only stood quietly by the bed, awaiting the Empress¡¯s command.


    ¡°Ring for some tea, Mouse,¡± the Empress said, leaning her head back onto the pillows and closing her eyes. ¡°I cannot sleep until I have had some tea.¡± Mouse crossed the room and tugged on the red silk rope that hung by the Empress¡¯s setting table. She knew that the Empress would be fast asleep before the tea ever came, but still she rang, lest it be discovered that she hadn¡¯t done as she was bade. ¡°And see that you stay here tonight,¡± the Empress called drearily. ¡°I should not like to sleep alone.¡±


    Mouse waited by the door for the tea to be delivered, opening it to a gap-toothed serving girl called Pritha who appeared with a silver tea tray in her hands shortly after she had rung.


    ¡°Will you be down later?¡± Pritha asked in an excited whisper when she saw Mouse. ¡°Jasper has stowed away a few flagons and we¡¯re going to go bird watching. Drunk as dullards they are tonight,¡± the girl grinned. ¡°Bird watching¡± was the term they used for watching the nobles stumble around drunk, struggling haplessly to find their way across the green or sneak into someone else¡¯s bedchambers undetected. More often than not, it ended with at least one in the bush, and as its name suggested, it was best done in the early hours of the morning.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m wanted here,¡± Mouse said, shaking her head. ¡°If Her Majesty wakes and finds me gone¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh certainly,¡± Pritha said in mock airs, ¡°we would not wish to displease Her Majesty.¡±


    Mouse offered a conciliatory smile to the girl as she bade her a good night and took the tray from her, setting in gently, quietly upon the table. One by one, she doused the candles about the room, disrobing quietly in the dark before drawing the heavy, blue embroidered bed hangings tightly closed and crawling under the blankets. It was too dark to see the Empress on the other side of the feathers, but she could hear her breath, the soft snore characteristic of one who had overindulged her thirst. It was strange, Mouse thought, as closed her eyes and pulled the blankets close around her, that two who looked so similar could be so different in nearly every other way. One was proud where the other was meek. One held all the power known to man while the other lived only to serve. It was a cruel trick of fate, thought Mouse as she drifted off to sleep, though who was the more miserable between them, it was impossible to say.

 Chapter 4: Duty

    ¡°What in the gods¡¯ names are you prattling on about?¡± the Empress demanded. Lord Hildimar lifted a cloth to his forehead, wiping away the drops of sweat that had gathered there. It was not just the heat; even from where she sat along the far wall, Mouse could see how uncomfortable the High Councilor was.


    ¡°As I said, Your Majesty, marriage licenses have become quite common practice in the eastern regions, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Lord Hildimar,¡± interrupted the Empress, ¡°I understand that you have been quite earnest in your travels, but for the love of Lord Cook¡¯s portly paunch, remove that scraggly shrew¡¯s hide from your head before we are all compelled to tie ourselves to a rock and let the ravens take our eyes.¡±


    Lord Hildimar gaped at the Empress, blustering about in his shock but was unable to utter a single coherent word. He had recently returned from the hinterlands and beyond, where he had met with several delegations from those along the eastern border, including many foreign dignitaries, and apparently had been keen to adapt to local fashion. The result of this was not only a garish fringe of green which he had tied about his collar, but he had also brought back with him another souvenir of sorts, which now sat awkwardly atop his head, hanging limply down to his brow.


    ¡°How you have not as of yet perished of embarrassment, I am certain I do not know,¡± the Empress continued, interposing upon his unintelligible protests, ¡°but I assure you that you cannot be long off. Now, stop your blubbering and take the damned thing off before I have you thrown in the dungeons for crimes enacted against all of humanity.¡±


    A few of the other High Councilors chortled behind their sleeves, though this did little to conceal their amusement, and even Mouse found it difficult not to laugh. Lord Hildimar¡¯s hairpiece, though a valiant attempt to cover the badly balding scalp beneath, was so hideously cut and fitted that it was hard to imagine that the effect he achieved in wearing it was anything he could possibly have hoped for.


    At last, he seemed to grasp the severity of the Empress¡¯s pronouncement, and sorrowfully slid the thin black tuft from his head, placing it in his lap and looking it down at it contritely. Peticru, who had been sniffing about Lord Hildimar¡¯s leg curiously since he had entered the room, took this as an opportunity to try and seize the hairpiece from its owner, and it wasn¡¯t until Lord Hildimar sat on the thing that the lanky blue hound lost interest.


    ¡°That¡¯s better, now isn¡¯t it,¡± the Empress said, smiling more at the dog than at the chastened councilor. Seeing the look on his face, Mouse could not help but feel a little sorry for Lord Hildimar. She was certain he only wanted to impress the council, but his time away from court must have caused him to forget how cruel the Empress could be. He muttered some sort of apology, mopping at his brow once again, before the Empress demanded that he stop wasting everyone¡¯s time and say something useful.


    ¡°You see, in the eastern regions,¡± Lord Hildimar began again, regaining himself, ¡°marriage licenses have been increasingly common and not only allow for the stately consolidation of households but also serve as a means of drawing additional funds, the sum of which, I am pleased to report, is not inconsequential.¡±


    The Empress nodded slowly at this. ¡°And what exactly is a marriage license?¡± she asked, fixing the anxious Lord Hildimar with a piercing gaze.


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty, of course, I will gladly explain,¡± Lord Hildimar continued. ¡°A marriage license is a permission by the state issued for two individuals to wed.¡±


    ¡°Permission to wed?¡± the Empress asked flatly, almost disbelievingly.


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± the High Councilor replied. ¡°I have found that many of our neighbors, in the east, that is, have adopted this notion, and it is now required for two individuals to secure the permission of the crown, that is, to obtain a marriage license in order to wed.¡±


    The Empress sat up straighter in her chair, her interest clearly piqued by Lord Hildimar¡¯s report.


    ¡°Furthermore,¡± Lord Hildimar went on, encouraged by the Empress¡¯s attention, ¡°the license forms a sort of contract between the two families, forming a legal basis for any future disputes.¡±


    The room was quiet, and for a long moment, no one spoke. The councilors looked from one to another and to the Empress, who sat contemplatively in her high-backed chair.


    At last, she spoke: ¡°By gods, I almost cannot believe it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty?¡± Lord Hildimar prompted eagerly, hoping, Mouse could see, for a word of praise that might absolve the sins of his fringe. The Empress¡¯s eyes were bright with animation.


    ¡°One of my councilors has actually said something intelligent.¡±


    ¡°I do not understand how one can require a license to marry,¡± said Mouse, still puzzling over what had passed in the council chamber as she walked beside Ludger toward the Golden Tower.


    ¡°You had better wait until we are behind closed doors to not understand it,¡± Ludger replied dourly, his staff ringing against the floor. Mouse heeded his advice but waited no longer than for the large wooden door of his compartments to clang shut before resuming her ponderance.


    ¡°I mean, how can they stop people from wedding freely?¡± she asked. But the old man only shook his head.


    ¡°Who knows how they intend to enforce such a thing,¡± he said. ¡°But then, the state is always finding new ways to overstep its margins and encroach upon its people.¡± He seated himself behind his polished wooden desk, sighing in relief to be off his feet. ¡°There is always another coin to be squeezed from them, and the crown will not be satisfied until every last scrap of silver, until everything that even shines like silver, is under its jurisdiction.¡± Mouse wondered if he was referring to the Empress of Aros in particular, or if the same could be said for any sovereign land. Ludger sat quietly in his chair for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before turning his attention to Mouse.


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    ¡°What do you think of the business?¡± he asked gruffly. Mouse pondered this question. She thought it was entirely absurd, if she was to be honest, but she was hesitant to say as much to Ludger. Recently, she felt a growing pressure to answer cleverly when he asked her for her thoughts. No, not just cleverly, learnedly, proficiently, as though she was beginning to understand that there might be some purpose to these relentless interviews.


    ¡°I think,¡± Mouse began slowly, ¡°that for something so¡ª¡± she paused for a moment, ¡°¡ªso novel, so radical to succeed, it must readily demonstrate its value to the people if it is not to be rejected immediately upon its attempted implementation. It is not enough that it may offer some sort of legal protections in the future. That would take too long to prove.¡±


    Ludger nodded at this. ¡°And what would you suggest as a means to this end?¡± he asked, his grey eyes watching Mouse closely. Mouse shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was sitting across from Ludger¡¯s desk, rather than at her usual spot in the window, and she found it only increased the sense of scrutiny she felt herself to be under.


    ¡°There could be some kind of privilege,¡± Mouse tried, ¡°something afforded only to those holding the appropriate license.


    ¡°Such as?¡± Ludger prompted.


    Mouse shook her head. ¡°It should be something that would incur no cost to the crown, or it would be self-defeating,¡± she replied. ¡°Perhaps an audience at court or some sort of special visitation.¡± She did not feel this answer was quite sufficient, but she did not think it so entirely stupid, either.


    ¡°You think that would be sufficient incentive?¡± Ludger asked, studying his pupil. Mouse rubbed her hands against the carved arms of the wooden chair. No, it would likely not be sufficient she supposed. So then, what? What could the crown possibly offer in exchange for requiring its people to pay for something they had always done for free?


    ¡°A stipend,¡± Mouse said, the words leaving her mouth almost before the idea had formed. ¡°A yearly allotment of grain or some other low cost-per-pound foodstuff. There would be some expenditure on the part of the crown, yes, but it would be far outweighed by the cost of the license.¡± Now that did not sound like such a terrible idea, Mouse thought to herself. In fact, it might be quite a good one. ¡°The cost might be further reduced by consolidating the deliveries.¡± she said.


    ¡°Would not delivery of the goods be costly?¡± Ludger inquired, raising a bushy white eyebrow.


    ¡°Yes,¡± replied Mouse. ¡°That is why those carrying it away themselves would receive ten percent more. But it cannot be expected that every man should have the means to¡ª"


    ¡°And would these deliveries you speak of be consolidated all at once?¡± the old man prodded.


    ¡°No,¡± said Mouse, shaking her head. ¡°No, that would require too great a surplus. They would be consolidated by region with deliveries made monthly, or bi-monthly if need be.¡±


    ¡°Where do you propose to obtain such a surplus?¡± the old man asked pensively.


    ¡°From the royal stores,¡± Mouse answered readily. ¡°To be replaced gradually over the course of the year.¡± To this, Ludger said nothing, and the longer he sat in silence, the more Mouse became convinced that she had done it, that she had finally said something that Ludger could not argue with.


    ¡°And what if that proved to be insufficient?¡± Ludger asked. ¡°What of your court? And what of those who did not receive their stipend before the stores were exhausted? How long do you think they might wait to receive that which they were promised?¡± Mouse hesitated. She had not had the chance to think that far ahead. Perhaps she had underestimated the volume of remuneration that might be required. Her plan was too short-sighted, she realized, and once again, she felt the weight of her inadequacy settle over her, pushing her down lower into her chair.


    Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and a gangly-looking page with a round face appeared.


    ¡°My lord, my lady,¡± he said, bowing awkwardly as he entered. Ludger looked at him impatiently.


    ¡°Speak, boy,¡± he demanded. ¡°What have you come for?¡± The page¡¯s eyes drifted to Mouse.


    ¡°My lady is wanted,¡± he said, his voice cracking between octaves.


    ¡°Is she?¡± Ludger grunted, doing nothing to disguise his annoyance at being interrupted. ¡°And who is it that¡¯s wanting her?¡±


    The page cleared his throat. ¡°Her Majesty, my lord.¡± Ludger¡¯s grey eyes fixed stonily upon the boy, and he gave another grunt before waving him away. But the boy remained, clearing his throat once more before speaking.


    ¡°I thought my lady should know that Her Majesty is waiting at the stables,¡± the page said, his eyes moving between Ludger and Mouse, unsure of whom he should be addressing.


    ¡°Yes, yes, very good, boy. Now, be gone,¡± grumbled Ludger. The boy shifted uncomfortably but still did not leave the room.


    ¡°That is, she is waiting, erm, eagerly,¡± he said, this time looking to Mouse.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made yourself heard,¡± Ludger bellowed, his voice rising in irritation. ¡°The girl will be there, but if you must linger, you¡¯ll do it on the other side of the door.¡± With that, the round-faced page bowed again, casting one more look at Mouse before leaving the way he came.


    Mouse watched the old man tug absently at the white hairs on his chin, happy for any delay in bearing out the boy¡¯s orders, but she knew she could not keep the Empress waiting long.


    ¡°You have not brought the box,¡± Ludger observed gruffly to her. Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°I did not think I should carry it with me to Council,¡± she replied, ¡°but I can certainly go and¡ª"


    ¡°No, it is just as well,¡± the old man sighed. ¡°It is clear that now is no time for such a conversation. Her Majesty awaits you, eagerly, or so I am told.¡± Mouse cursed herself for leaving the box tucked beneath her mattress. Discovering its contents was the only thing she had to look forward with any kind of anticipation, and now she would be forced to continue waiting.


    ¡°I will let you attend to your Empress presently,¡± Ludger said, folding his hands over the paunch of his waist, ¡°but bear in mind, child, duty takes many forms.¡± Mouse sat forward in her chair, waiting for the old man to continue, but he said nothing more, and only dismissed her with a wave of his hand.


    ¡°Duty takes many forms,¡± Mouse echoed to herself as she made her way down the steps of the castle, searching the words for some hidden meaning. But she knew that, like as not, it was only another of the old man¡¯s riddles, meant to do nothing more than confuse and confound. As she made her way across the grounds, her pace slowly began to ebb. She knew that there was only one reason she would be called down to the stables, but she clung to the hope that perhaps the Empress had some message or errand for her to carry out that did not involve sitting atop a great galloping beast. As she drew nearer the stables, the smell of straw and dung grew stronger with each step, and her mind drifted back to Ludger¡¯s parting words. Duty, indeed, took many forms; she only prayed that hers would not take the shape of a horse.

 Chapter 5: Into the Wood

    ¡°Gods, you look a fright, Mouse. Must you really be so dramatic?¡± the Empress jeered. Mouse clung to the horse¡¯s ashy mane, her shoulders hunched, and the reins tangled between her fingers. She did not think she was being at all dramatic. In fact, she thought herself quite composed, given that the grey gelding beneath her was nearly sixteen hand tall, weighed ten times what she did, and could kill a man with a single strike of its foot. What was more, Passavant, as her mount was called, was only six years old and had all the spirit of a horse still in his prime.


    The Empress shook her head in laughter at the sight of Mouse, tense and terrified atop her charger, and gave Wind¡¯s Whip a kick, trotting the gainly blue roan ahead across the mossy trail. Passavant pinned back his ears at the mare as she passed, but Wind¡¯s Whip paid no mind to the grey gelding other than to blow through her nose at him. Mouse tried to relax her shoulders, to remind herself that if she gave the horse no reason to unseat her, she had little to fear, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not feel at ease as long she remained in the saddle. The ride, she knew, would not be a short one, and by the time they arrived at their destination, she was sure she would be sore in more places than one.


    Silver Lake, the royal country residence toward which they now rode, was only a day¡¯s ride from Kriftel, but it had already been late morning by the time they had set out. After leaving Ludger in the Golden Tower and hastening to the stables, Mouse had been given a green tunic and jerkin and a pair of leather boots and told to name her mount. She had settled upon Passavant, a mottled grey close enough to the Empress¡¯s roan to pass for the same coloring, for he was a half a hand smaller than the rest, though from where she sat now, he seemed every bit as tall as all the others. Mouse knew that the fact that they had ridden out in such haste, with such little preparation and under so little precaution was like to signify only one thing: a certain northerner must have made himself known to be nearby. Sigurd, Dietric of Foilund had captured the interest of the Empress some years ago, and now, any time that he was so much as rumored to be in the country, she cast all duties aside and set out at once to meet him. Mouse had never encountered the man before; she did not know much of the Foilunders, and even less of the Dietric. But she had seen the light that danced in the Empress¡¯s eyes any time he was mentioned, and that was enough to engage her curiosity. Mouse hadn¡¯t any idea as to whether she should be excited or nervous to meet the northerners at last, so she decided she had better be both, just to be safe.


    They had been on the trail for some hours already, but the summer sun was still high in the sky, and only the canopy of the trees provided any kind of reprieve from the heat. Despite the warmth of the day, all the party were thickly cloaked, dressed in the same huntsman¡¯s green, the women with their hair tucked up under grey woolen caps. Mouse could feel something tickle the back of her neck, a bead of sweat, she hoped. For it were some biting gnat or stinging insect, she would be helpless against it, so loathe was she to spare a hand from the reins.


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡± one of the guardsmen asked, drawing up alongside her. Mouse swallowed her discomfort and nodded, though she knew it would do little to convince him. The guard looked her over, no doubt either laughing to himself at how ridiculous she looked or pitying her for how sorry she looked doing something he had probably been doing since before he could walk. He waited for a few moments, but Mouse could not bring herself to make any other reply, and at last, he rode on ahead.


    It was like to be a fine day to be in among the trees, observed Mouse, for anyone who liked trees and horses and riding for hours and hours upon end. The path cut into the woods was narrow and the ground soft underfoot, and all about them seemed to be suspended in a kind of quiet serenity. Some of the men rode only with swords, while the Empress and several others wore bows across their backs to create, as best they could, the illusion of a hunting party. Peticru padded alongside them, wandering off, on occasion, in pursuit of a hare, but never strayed far. He was no hunting dog, and his chief concern was remaining close to his master, where he might receive a piece of cold mutton dropped from the saddle from time to time.


    Mouse cursed to herself as another low branch licked her face and wondered that she had not been allowed to stay back. After all, what was the purpose of a decoy if not so that the Empress might be in two places at once? With both of them gone to Silver Lake, her absence would be all the more difficult to conceal, and Mouse could not think the Council, nor anyone for that matter, would be glad to hear of it. They had been riding for the better part of the day, and to Mouse¡¯s estimation, could not be far off from the Vellows, though they were still a good way off from their target.


    They were just shy of the area where the wood might begin to thin, when suddenly, a crack rang out, as that of a branch breaking under foot. Osgar, who headed the party, lifted a hand, signaling for the others to stop, and Mouse felt her hand go instinctively to the dagger at her leg. Brigands, she thought, twisting her neck about to search for the assailers. They must have been found out, and few as they were, it would not take many to outnumber them. This was why she had been brought along, she thought, because the Empress knew the perils of riding out so openly and understood that her own chances of escape would be better with Mouse along as surrogate to danger. But as it was, the sound turned out to be nothing more than a barefoot, mud-faced boy collecting firewood, and their journey was soon resumed unassailed.


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    Mouse lifted a shoulder, trying to wipe away a strand of hair that clung to her cheek, as they continued to ride quietly on. Whether their silence was to avoid drawing undue attention or the result of ill tempers, Mouse was certain she could not say. It was clear to her now that the Empress was the bane of her guard, so reckless and seemingly impervious to threats upon her person as she was, and so wont to doing as she pleased. Once her mind had been determined upon a thing, there was no hope of her seeing reason, and it must have been with every grievance and opposition that the guardsmen were prevailed upon to carry out their duty. It was not as if a post within the royal guard came without esteem, but it would certainly take a great deal to compensate for the impositions and difficulties they sustained, and it suddenly occurred to Mouse that perhaps their lot was not so very different from her own.


    As they approached the Vellows, the wood began to thin, and though the sun would last well into the evening, it soon became apparent that they would not make it to Silver Lake until long after it had set. It was therefore decided that they should find another place to stay for the night and resume their journey the next day. Mouse had hoped that the journey would last no more than a single day, but it seemed that luck, as usual, was against her.


    ¡°Stiftskeller on the Vellows,¡± one of the men had said, pointing northeast. ¡°It should not be more than an hour or two¡¯s ride from where we stand.¡± Some objections were made as to the shrewdness of staying at an inn, but the guard went on to explain that it had been a stopping place for many of the Knights of Toth on their way to the border regions before the Westerlands had been joined to the empire, and the owner was known to be respectable and discreet. Osgar, who had vociferously opposed the voyage from the start, grumbled at the notion, but he was reminded that Emperor Lothar himself had been known to stay at the inn on occasion, and eventually, even he was forced to concede that, as no better alternative was known to him within a few hours¡¯ ride, Stiftskeller should be settled upon.


    Mouse felt her heart at last begin to lighten. She had been to Stiftskeller on the Vellows before, some years prior, and remembered it fondly as one of her favorite inns in all the land. The vaulted ceilings and craggy stone walls reminded her of being down in the kitchens, with rows and rows of casks laid upon each other, and on cold days, the fires were lit, and hot wine could be had, so long as it could be paid for. Mouse wished it were a cold day, for she dearly loved hot wine, the way the spices tingled on her tongue and warmed her belly, but she supposed it was just as well not to have to ride in the snow.


    Once the place had been scouted, its defensive advantages assessed and appropriate accommodation secured within, the rest of the party followed. Mouse, for one, was very much looking forward to being on her own two feet again, and did not care where she slept, so long as it did not smell of a horse¡¯s rear. They took a narrow road to the back of the inn, stopping only for a brief moment to admire the view of the low sloping hills stretching out into the horizon, before entering the establishment through a door by the kitchens that led directly into a small dining room. The room was dark, with naught but plain tallow candles upon the tables, but it was enough to suit their purposes, and was made better, in the opinion of most, by its lack of windows. Though the journey had been all misery as far as Mouse was concerned, the smell of roast duck that wafted through the place soon overcame her discontent. Sweet summer peas, brown bread, and ale were enough to complete the setting, and all ate heartily. A bard of bawdy songs was said to be performing in the main hall of the inn that evening, and though the music bled in through the walls as they sat about the table enjoying their meal, it was to the great dismay of all that it was not loud enough for any of the words to be made out.


    Mouse had wondered if she would be able to sleep at all that night; there was little comfort to be had in lying on a pile of cloaks in the middle of an inn on the Vellows with no more than a dozen guard about herself and the Empress and a lazy blue hound at their feet. But the weariness of the day soon overpowered what worries she had, and upon closing her eyes, she did not open them again until morning.


    After a breakfast of cold meat and stewed apples, the party set out once again, refreshed and ready to take to the saddle, all save Mouse, who wondered if she might not simply walk the rest of the way. The morning sun was breaking gently, the grey sky slowly awakening with color, and as they crossed the narrow path leading away from the inn, they all stopped to stare in wonder at the magnificence of the country. The Vellows were considered by many to be one of the great natural beauties of Aros. The lush green hills tucked in closely against one another, with wildflowers springing up across their faces were now bathed in morning shades of pink and violent. Mouse looked out across the gentle ridges, the waves of grass dancing in the breeze, and pulled her cloak tightly about her. Though it was by no means cold, the thick fabric wrapped around her made her feel safe somehow, protected from whatever dangers may lurk within the folds. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of morning dew upon the grass, watching as the Empress leaned down from her saddle to pluck a single mallow from the earth before reaching across and tucking it into Ulrich, the honey-haired guardsman¡¯s cap. The Empress swung herself back low toward the ground, her legs gripped tightly around her mare, to pluck more flowers for her men. Strange, Mouse thought as she watched the Empress slowly circle the guards, tucking small purple mallows into each and every one of their caps, that such a woman should rule an empire.

 Chapter 6: Plain Danger

    ¡°I¡¯ve mapped a path through Borswald,¡± said Osgar, indicating with a gloved hand the forest that stood behind him on the western ridge. ¡°We¡¯ll come around from the west, and the trees will provide plenty of cover until we reach Silver Lake.¡± The morning sun was beginning to fade to a pale yellow as it rose slowly over the Vellows, but the tree line beyond remained shrouded in darkness, the fog taking longer to lift amid the dense foliage.


    ¡°That is all very well,¡± replied the Empress, stroking her roan on the neck without turning to look in the direction that Osgar indicated, ¡°but we shall not be riding through Borswald. We shall take the Vellows.¡± Osgar, who at some forty years was the oldest among them and had served under Emperor Lothar, looked at the Empress in a kind of bewilderment.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said with all the patience of a man who was accustomed to reasoning with the unreasonable, ¡°while it is true that the Vellows are more direct, it is safer by far to go through the wood. Even here, it is too dangerous to ride out in the open.¡±


    ¡°Then we had better ride quickly,¡± the Empress said with a smile. Mouse could see the tension beginning to seize the guardsman¡¯s countenance as he shifted in his saddle. He was trying to maintain his forbearance, but his patience with the Empress was beginning to wear thin.


    ¡°It will take no more than six hours to travel by Borswald, Majesty,¡± he explained evenly. ¡°We shall arrive well before the sun even thinks of setting.¡± Six more hours in the saddle was far too long, thought Mouse, but better to arrive sore and miserable than not to arrive at all. Though she had every inclination to get to Silver Lake and off the back of a horse in as short as time as possible, even Mouse was forced to agree that the Empress¡¯s insistence upon riding out upon open ground for all the world to see was nothing short of foolish.


    ¡°I understand your protestations, and I admire your vigilance, Osgar,¡± replied the Empress, pulling a piece of Peticru¡¯s blue hair from her cloak and letting it float to the ground. ¡°Nonetheless, we will be taking the Vellows,¡± and before the guardsman could answer, ¡°That is my word.¡± Osgar¡¯s former equanimity seemed at last to erode, his voice now rising in frustration.


    ¡°I cannot allow that, Majesty,¡± he pronounced. ¡°As the head of your guard, it is my sworn duty to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then I am sorry that I must inform you that you are no longer the head of my guard,¡± the Empress interrupted before he could finish. The placating smile had faded from her face, replaced with an expression of obstinance. Osgar, shocked by the Empress¡¯s words, opened his mouth to speak but could seem to find no words.


    ¡°Ulrich,¡± the Empress said, turning away from the older guard to the young one at her right, ¡°I congratulate upon your new rank as head of the royal guard. Now, take us to Silver Lake¡ª by way of the Vellows, if you please.¡±


    Ulrich was the youngest of all the guard present. His hair was the color of honey, the loose curls tucked behind his ears, and as Mouse judged, was a good deal shy of twenty-five years. He tended to be the most reserved among the men, wasting no words and only rising to forcefulness as necessary, and though he normally held himself with a kind of quiet confidence that many admired, he now seemed lost for recourse, looking uncertainly between the Empress and the old head of guard.


    ¡°This is foolishness!¡± bellowed Osgar indignantly, driving his mount a few steps forward.


    ¡°Thank you, Osgar, for your many years of service,¡± the Empress cut in, pulling her gloves over her slender fingers. ¡°You are hereby relieved of duty and will no longer serve in the royal guard. You may accompany us for the remainder of the journey, but upon our return, I will have your sword and your crest.¡± Mouse looked around at the other men of the guard, the shocked expressions on their faces mirroring her own. Certainly the Empress could not mean what she said. Osgar had been with the guard for more than twenty years, since before the Empress had even been born. How could she discard him the moment he opposed her?


    ¡°Majesty, I implore you to see reason,¡± cried Osgar. But the Empress merely took up her reins and turned from him, starting down the path that led out across the Vellows. Mouse did not like the direction things were heading, and it was clear from the furrowed brows of the guardsmen that she was not the only one. But what were they to do? They could not disobey a direct order of the Empress.


    ¡°As you were, Ulrich,¡± the Empress called as she continued up the path. The young guardsman hesitated for a moment, before finally seeming to steel himself and spurring his chestnut gelding ahead. Through their apparent discontent apparent, the rest of the guard soon followed, until only Osgar remained, staring with contempt at the backs of those in front of him. Mouse wondered what he would do, but she could not afford to wait back, and so went on with the rest. She felt very sorry for Osgar. He did not deserve to be spoken to in the way the Empress had addressed him, nor did he deserve to be relieved of his position for performing his duty. And though Mouse knew that the Empress could be stubborn, she hoped that she would soon realize the error of her judgement and make amends with the old head of the guard.


    It was not long before the sun was shining brightly overhead, and without the cover of the trees, it felt all the more oppressive beating down upon their backs. The path upon which Ulrich led them weaved low among the Vellows, tucking in through the folds so that they might be little seen from any distance. But to remain unseen entirely would be impossible. As they continued through the low rolling hills, every minute that passed was one that left them more exposed; the closer they drew to Silver Lake, the smaller the hills rose and the flatter the land became. It was only a matter of time until the ground opened up and offered no protection whatsoever to the travelers. The air was warm and still, and as the land began to flatten, grew thick with quiet tension.


    It was a mistake to take the Vellows, Mouse could not help but think. Though it allowed them to pass straight up from the south, they were so entirely exposed that they would stand no chance of surviving any kind of attack. She could sense that the others in the party were thinking the same, so quiet were they that Mouse felt almost as if she should hold her breath to keep from making too much noise. Just a little farther, she told herself as they started across the last stretch of open plain, and they would be safe within the walls of Silver Lake. But no sooner had she glimpsed the castle rising in the distance than something went sailing past her head, whistling in her ear as it flew by. She turned to look behind her but saw nothing, and it was at that same moment that she heard the cry of a horse. She turned back around just in time to see the sorrel in front of her rise up on its two hind legs, sending its rider to the ground. She had barely noticed the arrow lodged in the creature¡¯s haunch before it took off across the meadow ahead.


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    All the party had stirred at once, the guards yelling as the horses stamped furiously at the ground and tossed their heads. Mouse felt her heart begin to pound in her chest before she could even fully understand what was happening, and though Passavant shook at his reins, he held his ground and did not bolt. Mouse could feel the terror seeping into her faster and deeper as she looked about in fear and confusion, but in that moment, she felt that she had never loved a horse so much.


    A pair of riders had already been dispatched in the direction from which the arrow had been sent, and Mouse found herself frozen, staring down at a second arrow that stood poking out of the grass. She looked up to see Ulrich, who, taking Passavant¡¯s bridle in his hand, held the gelding still only long enough to shout, ¡°Run, Mouse! For god¡¯s sake, run, and do not stop until you have reached the walls!¡± But Mouse could only sit frozen in terror, until Ulrich struck her horse¡¯s haunch with his bow, sending the swift grey gelding across the meadow at a gallop. Mouse leaned forward across the horse¡¯s neck, her fingers wrapped tightly in his mane and her legs clinging to his body with every ounce of strength she had. She could not see what lay in front of her, nor could she bring herself to look up; she was at the mercy of her mount entirely, and all she knew was that she would be glad to live to tell of it. Tears streamed down her face as the horse ran faster, his hoofbeats thundering upon the ground, shaking her with every strike. She could not let go. Terrified as she was, she was determined to stay atop the galloping beast, and she found herself clinging to one thought alone, one creed¡ªthat she would not die this day, here among the mallows.


    At last, the horse began to slow, and Mouse, though trembling with fear and effort, tried to push herself upright. But her body resisted the act, as if frozen in place, and she found she could not untangle her hands from the horse¡¯s ashy mane. Without knowing what was happening, Mouse felt herself suddenly being pulled from the saddle. For a moment, she resisted, until she realized that one of the guardsmen had her about the waist and was bearing her toward an opening in a high stone wall. Mouse did not know how long she could keep her own feet under her, but she knew she must not stop until she was safely within the wall. Her legs quaked, and she could feel the salt of dried tears on her face, but she would not allow herself to fall to the ground until she was given leave to do so.


    Once safely through the wall, Mouse felt herself being wrapped within a cloak and set gently upon the ground. ¡°Are you hurt?¡± one of the guardsmen asked her, inspecting her face. Mouse shook her head. She shook terribly, her body cold and numb, but she was not injured, at least not that she could tell. She was within the bailey, she could see, and glad for it. She was glad for the stone wall behind her back and the grass beneath her and the cloak wrapped about her. She was glad for the guard who had pulled her from her horse and carried her inside the curtain wall, and for all the rest who came in now, one by one.


    Little by little, her heartbeat began to slow and the feeling began to return to her limbs as she watched the guard gather and talk among themselves. Finally, the last came in, appearing through the wall with a prisoner in tow. The man¡¯s hands were bound, but he showed no signs of wishing to flee, and instead threw himself on the ground at Ulrich¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Forgive me, my lord!¡± he wailed. ¡°Only I did not know you, else I would¡¯ve never¡ª¡± he shook his head and clasped his hands tightly together. ¡°Oh, I beg of you, do not kill me, my lord!¡± he cried.


    ¡°I am no lord,¡± answered Ulrich. ¡°Now, tell me who you are and why you have chosen to assail the royal guard this day.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± the man cried. ¡°Not the royal guard, my lord, strangers!¡±


    ¡°Indeed, you have loosed three arrows upon Her Majesty¡¯s royal guard,¡± replied Ulrich to the man who cowered before him on the grass. ¡°Now is your chance to explain your design in doing so, and I suggest that you avail yourself of the opportunity, for it is like to be the only one that you get.¡± The man began his violent wails anew, and Mouse found that she could not help but feel sorry for him, even if he had, as Ulrich had explained, put them all in danger.


    ¡°I only meant to scare you off, my lord,¡± he pleaded. ¡°I swear it! To protect the keep, that and nothing more.¡±


    The young head of the guard looked down at the man.


    ¡°Why?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°I never did know it was you, my lord,¡± the man cried, wringing his hands repentantly. ¡°I thought you was one of the others, I swear it!¡±


    ¡°What others?¡± Ulrich asked.


    ¡°One of those strange men that came riding through from the north, my lord,¡± the man answered, ¡°I never saw the likes before, and I did not know¡ª¡± The man dropped his elbows into the grass in a pitiful gesture. ¡°I only wanted to protect the keep, to do my own part,¡± he cried.


    Ulrich stood quiet for a moment. Mouse wondered if she might know what he was going through his mind. Perhaps, she thought, he was thinking how easily this might all have been avoided. Had the Empress not been so insistent upon riding out without any notice, had she deigned to make the appropriate preparations or given any kind of warning to those at Silver Lake, things might have gone very differently.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Ulrich asked the man.


    ¡°I¡¯m nobody but nobody, my lord,¡± the man whimpered. ¡°Nobody but nobody.¡± He lifted his eyes pitifully to Ulrich. ¡°Nevertheless, I pray you¡¯ll spare me, my lord, for I never did know it was you.¡±


    ¡°I will remind you not to call me ¡®my lord,¡¯¡± said Ulrich. ¡°Now, tell me more about these strange men you saw.¡±


    The man¡¯s brow lightened at this, as he realized, perhaps, that he may yet be believed.


    ¡°Came riding in from the north two days ago, my lord,¡± he said. ¡°Stopped at the other side of the lake. Have everyone in the castle up in arms and all the men ¡®round the northern side. See how empty the parapets stand this side, my lord?¡± Mouse and the rest of the guard looked up. The man was right. The wall was sparsely held this side


    ¡°Why were you in the wood to the south if these strange men came from the north?¡±


    ¡°Suppose one of those men went creeping off and came ¡®round the back,¡± the man replied. ¡°Suppose they hatched some plan to come up from behind and take the castle by surprise, my lord.¡± Ulrich looked up, as if patience could be found in the clouds.


    ¡°For the last time,¡± he said, ¡°I am no lord. How many men are there?¡± The man looked about.


    ¡°I say about as many as you are here, my lord,¡± he replied. ¡°A dozen. Maybe less. But they¡¯re not Teppish, that much is for certain. And who can say what they¡¯ve come for?¡±


    It was clear that these strangers the man spoke of were none other than the Dietric of Foilund and his men. No one else would dare to ride so close to the keep without an invitation, and certainly no one else could so readily be identified as hailing from somewhere outside of the continent of Tepp. If it was a siege, their numbers would have been far greater, yet they had made no attempt to conceal themselves. It could only be that they waited for the Empress to send one of her own men, lest any approach upon the castle be misconstrued by the country guards as an act of aggression, as evidenced by the ravings of the man who knelt before them now.


    With the cause of the attack accounted for, the man was taken away, while the rest of the party made their way to the keep. Mouse had not seen the Empress within the bailey and knew that she must have been conveyed indoors immediately, while she herself was left to recover upon the grass. She ascended the steps slowly, her nerves frayed and body weak, as she held fast to one of the guardsmen¡¯s arms, who slowed reluctantly to match her pace. Perhaps, Mouse thought, as he left her at the door of the castle to climb the next set of stairs on her own, it was not such a terrible thing for a man to not be Teppish.

 Chapter 7: Strangers in a Strange Land

    All of Silver Lake was in a state of exhilaration. No outrider had been sent to give notice of the Empress¡¯s impending arrival, so when she strode into the castle with a retinue of guards following not far behind, there was a period of confusion, followed by the rapturous gratification of those within. They had not received their mistress for some fourteen months, if the chamberlain was to be believed, though the Empress insisted it had not been half so long. As for those without, they were equally gratified and more than equally relieved to find that the castle would not, as they might have feared, fall under siege.


    There was some anxiety on behalf of the domestics as to the lack of preparations, which was only natural, but the Empress was quick to insist that little would be required, as she did not intend to stay above a week. Besides, she reminded the chamberlain, they would eat only the fish caught from the lake and whatever was in season or could be spared from the stores while she was in residence, as was her custom when visiting the place. The chamberlain balked at this, insisting there was certainly something fit to be butchered in the pens, but the Empress replied only that the sun was yet high, and there were plenty of hours in which they might catch a pleasant meal, so long as they did not further delay.


    The Empress was markedly eager to receive her guests, but not to the extent that she would forgo bathing and dressing properly, something which Mouse, as the only lady present at Silver Lake, was obliged to see to.


    But Mouse did not mind being called upon for such a task, for mercifully, she had been allowed to stay back while the others rode out to the northern part of the lake. She seized upon this opportunity with the Empress gone to recover herself from the journey and see leisurely to her own toilet, soaking in the warm water brought up by the kitchen maids and inhaling deeply the scent of herbs that had been poured into the bath.


    One of the maids, a girl who Mouse did not think could have seen more than eleven summers, stayed back when the others left, twisting her hands together nervously before venturing at last to speak. ¡°May I attend you, my lady? If it pleases you, that is,¡± she said timidly. Mouse smiled gently at her, touched by the girl¡¯s earnestness, and replied: ¡°Indeed, nothing would please me more.¡± The girl bowed deeply, blushing with pride. ¡°Then I am at your service, Lady Maudeleine,¡± she said, at once taking up a cloth and bringing it to the basin, and Mouse could see that already her timidity of a few moments ago was beginning to fade under the persuasion of her self-administered duty.


    Mouse was almost surprised that the girl should know her and seek to wait on her, but more than that, she was grateful to the girl. Her deferent and doting manner reminded Mouse of what it meant¡ªwhat it should mean¡ªto be a lady of the court. The girl had no reason to fear that any superfluous show of kindness to Mouse might earn her an ugly remark from the Empress, and so it was with a constant stream of pleasantries that she carried about her work, observing to Mouse how well she looked and how the sun upon her cheeks had brought out the warmth of her eyes. Mouse did not know where the girl had learned to speak so prettily but gathered that she had long awaited the opportunity to rehearse her manners, so keen was she to rise to what was put before her.


    After her bath, the girl combed out Mouse¡¯s hair, starting at the ends, as Mouse instructed her, so as not to let the tresses catch in knots. But the girl¡¯s hands were little practiced, and though Mouse smiled at her all the while, it was just as often to conceal a wince as it was to indicate any real satisfaction. If there was one thing Mouse was good at, it was performing her work adeptly and quietly, and though the same could not be said for the little kitchen maid, Mouse thought there was some good in this. The girl showed no fear, no apprehension, and the longer she waited on Mouse, the more Mouse¡¯s heart swelled with fondness.


    The girl hummed to herself as she pulled a soft-bristled brush over Mouse¡¯s long, dark hair, her tiny fingers wrapped around the carved horn handle, and Mouse found herself closing her eyes and letting her mind drift in a state of pleasant relaxation. She began to wonder if it might not be possible to bring the girl back to Kriftel where she could learn to be a proper lady¡¯s maid. But the girl, she reminded herself, was not necessarily an orphan like herself. In fact, it was more like that she had a family here, a mother and a father, perhaps sisters and brothers. And it would be no favor to them to have the girl removed, for though Silver Lake was not a seat of power, it still held the prestige of being a royal residence and with little of the dangers. Here, they need not worry about constant overcrowding or an endless flow of strangers passing through. They had no reason to fear a rebellion taking the castle or a plague brought from an overseas envoy killing them all. Here, they had the land and the lake, and an easy life was theirs between the Empress¡¯s visits. It was a life that many might envy, and so Mouse quickly put the thought from her mind.


    When it came time to dress, though the girl could be of little help, Mouse was quick to shower her with praise, admiring the dexterity of her fingers and her resolve to ensure that all the fastenings were properly seen too, even if they were, in fact, not.


    ¡°I pray you will call upon me if you find you are in need of anything at all,¡± said the girl before leaving Mouse¡¯s chambers to return to the duties that awaited her in the kitchens. Mouse smiled and inclined her head in assent.


    ¡°And who shall I call for?¡± she asked, admiring once again the girl¡¯s deportment and precocity.


    ¡°Elke, my lady,¡± replied the girl with a bow. And with that, she departed, leaving Mouse with naught but her own thoughts.


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    Mouse stood on the steps of the keep, watching as the riders dismounted in the bailey. The man from earlier, she realized, the one who had been taken to the tower to await trial, was either short of sight or did not know how to count, for there were at least twice as many Foilund men as he had reported, and they all stood now at the foot of the steps, making their introductions. "Strange men," he had called them, and though Mouse could see why he might, she thought there were many more appropriate words to describe their fascinating appearance.


    Mouse had never seen a Foilunder before, at least not up close, and it was only now that she realized just how much they truly stood out among their Teppish counterparts. They were tall, all of them, taller even than Dag, the stable master, and Dag was the tallest person Mouse knew. All were fair of head, some among them with hair so light as to appear almost white in the summer sun, and even their mounts were flaxen. Several of the men wore their hair long, with plaits running through it, a distinction that in the Arosian Empire, at least, was reserved for only the most decorated knights and even then was often forgone due to the difficulty in maintaining it.


    Mouse stood watching as they dismounted upon the grass of the bailey to be received. She studied them closely, the way their hide doublets stretched across their broad shoulders and their ears glittered with gold, and was surprised at the thrill she felt as she awaited their admittance. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was not so difficult to understand the Empress¡¯s inclination toward her northerner after all. Sigurd, who had been distinguished by the Empress, did not appear so different from any of the rest. His silvery yellow hair was tied back away from his face, and he wore a gilded knife in his belt, but otherwise, he was dressed the same as his men and bore no crest or crown of any kind, so far as Mouse could observe.


    Mouse knew him to be a Dietric, a leader among his people, but she was not as intimately familiar with the ruling structure of Foilund as she might have been, something which she now chastised herself for. It was her duty, she reminded herself, to understand the politics of all nations, not just her own, to stay as informed as possible on matters both foreign and domestic. And now she would be forced to be among people who she remembered from her tomes only in an almost superficial sense. She knew their borders, their chief exports, their allies and adversaries, but that was not enough. She should know their lineages, their customs. She wished desperately that she had been made aware of the purpose of their visit, that she had had more time to prepare before meeting them, but all she could do now was to recall what she could and hope not to embarrass herself, and by extension, the empire.


    Even from what distance she stood at, Mouse could see the light burning in the Empress¡¯s eyes as she looked at Sigurd. It was not diplomacy that affected her manner toward him, she thought to herself from her perch on the steps, it was passion. Whether it was love was another matter entirely, but it was as plain as the clouds in the sky that the Empress was infatuated with the man.


    As the pair mounted the steps of the castle, the rest of the Foilunders following close behind, Mouse felt her heart begin to beat faster. She suddenly became aware of the fact that she was the only lady the Empress had brought and therefore the only Arosian nobility, apart from the Empress, in the whole of Silver Lake. That meant that not only was it incumbent upon her to act as representative of the court, but she would likely be under the constant scrutiny of the foreigners.


    She clasped her hands together in front of her to hide their trembling as she prepared to endure the gaze of two dozen men who likely did not encounter many southerners and fewer still women of Mouse¡¯s dark coloring and in such a position as she was. Nevertheless, she stood up straight, reminding herself of the reprimand she would receive from Ludger if he were here and imagining the lick of his staff upon her shin.


    As the Empress and the Dietric neared her step, she bowed deeply, hoping desperately that they would pass by quickly and that this whole reception might end without her having to open her lips. But as she rose, she found that Sigurd, Dietric of Foilund, had halted his ascent and stood now in front of her, staring. She did not wish to meet his gaze, such was her discomfiture, but knew that she must. She slowly lifted her eyes, making note of the bronze chain slipped about the Foilunder¡¯s waist and the carved ivory buttons of his doublet, and looked up into the man¡¯s face. He was handsome, to be sure, with a square jaw and a nose only slightly crooked, but what stood out to her most, as she was certain was the case for all who met him, were his eyes. They were a bright, dazzling blue, the likes of which she had never seen before, nearly opalescent in their luster. They seemed to glow, thought Mouse, like colored glass when the morning sun comes pouring brightly in.


    The northerner looked intently at her but did not smile. In fact, his countenance seemed to betray no emotion whatsoever. Mouse could feel the color rise in her cheeks as he continued his study of her, but she had nowhere to hide, and perhaps worse still, nothing to say.


    ¡°I see you have brought your shadow,¡± the Dietric said at last in a thick northern accent, his voice deep and even. The Empress, to whom this remark was clearly addressed, was waiting on the step above him. She did not like when attention was drawn to the likeness between herself and Mouse, for her ego protested comparison of any kind, and she perceived it as a strike against her vanity, even if her very life may at times depend on the girl¡¯s ability to resemble her as closely as possible.


    Though the Dietric¡¯s remark may have paid no compliment to Mouse in any direct way, the fact that he still stood staring at her spoke loudly enough. ¡°That is the thing about shadows,¡± the Empress said lightly, no doubt trying to conceal her annoyance. ¡°They follow you wherever you go.¡±


    After another moment, the Dietric finally broke his gaze, and Mouse was glad at last when to see him walk through the castle doors alongside the Empress. She unclasped her hands and released the breath she had been unconsciously holding. If she could endure his gaze, she could certainly endure the rest, and it was with little discomfort that she now awaited the other Foilunders.


    She was not sure how she felt about the Dietric. He was fine and tall and handsome, but she could not read his expression the way she could an Arosian¡¯s, and it made her feel ill at ease. But if nothing else, she thought to herself as she kept her place on the step, she could count on the Empress to keep them separated, for she would certainly take every measure to prevent any partiality from developing.


    All the better, thought Mouse to herself, for here at Silver Lake where there was no Ludger, no Johannes, no council, she might finally find some peace.

 Chapter 8: Of Mice and Men

    The banquet that was laid that night was a testament to the skill of the cook, for very little notice had been given and less still instruction as to how it might be prepared. Boiled potatoes with parsley and curdled milk sat alongside freshly roasted perch and brown bread, while the carp that had been caught that same day had been cooked into a pie and served with egg and mustard sauce. The table itself was covered in a fine embroidered cloth that bore the mallow of Toth, and the chandelier had been lit without sparing a candle.


    Mouse had not realized, amid all the excitement of their guests¡¯ arrival, just how hungry she was, but with the aroma of warm bread hot from the ovens and fresh herbs wafting through the air, she now found it difficult to think of anything else.


    The Dietric had insisted upon having the Empress¡¯s men join them at banquet, answering her protestations by saying, ¡°If we wished to dine only among Foilunders, we would have remained in Foilund.¡±


    They had traveled a long way, several weeks, by Mouse¡¯s estimation, and she could understand why after such a time they would wish to enjoy a more varied company. Salt herring chewed upon nightly with the same twenty men was certain to lose its flavor in little time indeed. The Empress, however, was loathe to oblige the Dietric in this, lamenting that it would reflect poorly upon her hospitality to have her own men at table while some of the Foilunders still held the wall.


    ¡°They will earn their keep,¡± Sigurd had insisted. ¡°Besides, they have been riding too long at leisure, enjoying your fair country, and they are in want of useful employment.¡±


    The Empress was thus forced to acquiesce, if only for fear that if she did not, the Foilunder was like to go into the village until he had sought out enough Arosians to fill out the table. Mouse, however, did not care who she dined with, so long as she would not be prevailed upon to converse above a minimum so that she might enjoy as much of the mouthwatering feast as she could stomach. She preferred country food to the rich, elaborate meals of court, and as far as she was concerned, there was little that could best potatoes and curdled milk.


    She had been seated between two of Sigurd¡¯s men, in the name of varied company, and though she knew that it was her duty as a lady to make herself amenable to her guests, each time she glanced at the towering Foilund men on either side of her, she found it difficult to produce anything to say or the nerve with which to say it. She took comfort in knowing they seemed hardly to notice her, but at last could no longer ignore the duty incumbent upon her.


    ¡°Pray, sir, how have you found your travels?¡± Mouse began to the man who sat on her left.


    ¡°Long,¡± he answered, taking a lengthy drink from his own cup before replacing it upon the table. Mouse dutifully picked up the jug that stood between them and refilled his cup.


    ¡°You must be weary,¡± she said, ignoring the brevity of his reply. ¡°I hope you have not found the heat too oppressive.¡± The Foilunder seemed to study her as she gently set the jug back upon the table, his expression every bit as stoic and impassive as the Dietric¡¯s.


    ¡°Heat is heat,¡± he shrugged. ¡°In the south, there is more of it.¡± Mouse forced herself to smile. She was beginning to form the impression that the Foilunders were not known as particularly verbose conversationalists.


    ¡°Well, you know what they say¡ª¡± She said, pausing a moment. ¡°Warm weather makes for warm people.¡± The fair-haired northerner stared at her, no trace of a smile upon his lips.


    ¡°So then what does cold weather make for?¡± he asked, his thick northern accent coloring the phrase. Mouse froze. She was not sure how to answer this. Foilund was located in the far north, a notoriously cold place. The Foilunder raised an eyebrow in anticipation of her reply. ¡°Or perhaps there is no saying for this?¡± he prompted.


    Mouse took a sip of wine from her cup, attempting to drink away some of the awkwardness and buy herself some time to come up with a clever reply.


    ¡°Cold weather,¡± Mouse said, ¡°makes for long nights.¡± She looked at the Foilunder and smiled. ¡°And long nights make for fast friends.¡± She lifted her cup to him. The Foilunder looked at her for a moment, seeming to consider whether what she said was worth drinking to, before raising his own cup, and together, they drank. Mouse congratulated herself on her effort, even if it had come with little reward, and returned again to her meal, satisfied that she had done her duty.


    It was some time later and after many minutes of silence that Mouse found herself startled by the address of the Foilunder who sat to the other side of her.


    ¡°You are hungry,¡± he observed. Mouse felt the color creep into her cheeks as she swallowed a mouthful of potato and replaced her fork.


    ¡°Indeed, sir,¡± she said, blushing with embarrassment. ¡°You will please forgive my manners, for I find they tend to desert me when I am so¡ª¡± But here, she paused, unable to think of an eloquent word to convey the extent of her voracious appetite.


    ¡°Ravenous?¡± the northerner prompted, continuing to watch her as she pressed a cloth delicately to her lips. Mouse could think of no reply other than to smile at him and hope that he would not notice her humiliation.


    ¡°I hope you have found your time in Aros pleasing,¡± she began now anew, taking in the Foilunders bright blue eyes that shimmered in the candlelight. ¡°It must be many weeks that you have been traveling.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, ¡°Though my own journey was not so perilous as your own.¡± Mouse looked at him for a moment in confusion, unsure of his meaning. ¡°Or perhaps it is every day you ride through arrows across open plains?¡± he said. ¡°It may be nothing more than sport to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± cried Mouse in sudden understanding, for it was only upon hearing these words that she suddenly recalled to mind the trials of earlier that day, the arrow that flew sharply past her ear as another stood in the ground, the horses galloping across the open field to the castle. ¡°I suppose there was a certain excitement in it,¡± she laughed.


    ¡°Is excitement what you call it?¡± the Foilunder asked, his eyes alight with amusement. ¡°You must be brave. Perhaps you Arosians must do fear death the way we Foilunders do.¡±


    Mouse studied the northerner¡¯s face. Though he appeared stoic to an Arosian eye, much the way Sigurd had, his voice carried feeling and depth, and his eyes were lively and animated.


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    ¡°I assure you, there was no bravery, only haste and a mind occupied elsewhere,¡± she answered. The Foilunder lifted a brow in question. ¡°For as you have already observed,¡± smiled Mouse, ¡°I was indeed quite ravenous.¡± The Foilunder laughed at this. It was a laugh so deep, Mouse thought she may very well drown in it, and a prickle of warmth ran over her skin. The Foilunder reached across the table, lifting the jug of wine to refill both their cups.


    He was tall and broad like the rest, observed Mouse, and he wore gold in both his ears, the rich color of it bringing a kind of warmth to his complexion. His pale blond hair, though not so long as some of the others, fell just above his shoulders, a single plait twisting back from one side of his face. It was a rather a pleasing face, Mouse thought.


    ¡°You are called Mouse,¡± the Foilunder said, replacing the jug. ¡°Tell me, how did you come upon such a name?¡±


    Mouse looked down at her plate. She did not want to tell the Foilunder the truth, that she was called Mouse because the Empress thought little of her, because she was small and stupid and of hardly any consequence. But neither did she wish to mislead him. How then should she answer?


    ¡°I suppose,¡± she said at last, ¡°that it is because I am so fond of curdled milk.¡± The Foilunder laughed again, and Mouse felt a blush bloom on her cheek to know that he enjoyed her jest.


    Their conversation carried well into the night, and Mouse found herself unusually delighted by the northerner¡¯s company. Torben, she learned he was called. His manner was easy and open, and Mouse was surprised to discover a cleverness in him that she had not expected. He had traveled many places, more places than Mouse had and certainly more interesting ones, and had been to lands of which she had somehow never heard.


    ¡°You southerners concern yourselves too much with your own country,¡± he explained. ¡°But I can hardly fault you this,¡± he said, his eyes traveling over Mouse¡¯s face, ¡°for there are many beauties here to behold, the likes of which I have never before seen.¡± Mouse felt herself blush so deeply at this that she had to turn away, lest the northerner see her cheeks burning red as summer fruits.


    The wine that night was sweeter than any Mouse could recall, the taste of it fresh and bright on her tongue, like grass and forest berries, and when at last it came time for the party to separate, her heart felt so light that she was almost surprised that she did not float all the way up to the ceiling.


    ¡°Let us pray that the night passes quickly,¡± the Foilunder said, pressing her hand gently to his lips, ¡°for I long to see how bright this jewel of Aros shines in the light of day.¡± And with that, he left her.


    Mouse had passed from the great hall, her head swimming with wine and sweet words, when she suddenly remembered herself. She was not here on her own accord; she was here as the Empress¡¯s lady. She ran hurriedly back to the great hall, wondering how she could have let herself become so swept away by Torben¡¯s attentions as to forget the Empress entirely.


    She felt a sudden fear run through her. What if the Empress had been wanting her all the while? How long had Mouse kept her waiting? Her breath shortened in her chest as she rounded the corner, slipping through the door of the great hall as quietly as she could. She was about to push aside the curtain, when she heard the sound of voices, and stopped where she stood.


    What was she to do¡ªannounce her presence and risk drawing undue notice to the fact that she had absconded without the Empress¡¯s leave? Or slip back out the door and pretend that she had been wanted for some innocuous task by one of the maids? She stood behind the curtain, biting her lip in indecision.


    She supposed that before she decided on a course of action, she should first ascertain who remained in the hall. The voices that spoke were low, but not so low that she could not make them out.


    ¡°Will you not tell me, now that you have been fed and watered, the real reason for your visit?¡± It was unmistakably the Empress speaking now. ¡°I know you have not traveled all this way just to gaze upon me with those impassive eyes of yours.¡±


    Here, there was a pause, and Mouse held her breath, waiting to hear who answered.


    ¡°I come asking for salt,¡± came the reply. It was the Dietric, as well as may be expected, thought Mouse. Or at least someone who sounded very much like him, though she could not imagine who it would be other than the man himself. ¡°Winter comes earlier in the north than it does here,¡± he said. The Empress laughed.


    ¡°Indeed, take all the salt you wish,¡± she said. ¡°But do not think me a fool. I know that when a Foilunder asks for salt, it is not salt he wants.¡±


    There was another pause.


    ¡°Majesty,¡± the Foilunder said in a low, even voice, ¡°I have observed in my travels the great many forests that grace your lands. And as you know, we require a great deal of wood for our ships.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said the Empress knowingly. ¡°You¡¯ve used up all your own forests and now you wish to cut mine down as well.¡±


    ¡°That would be a very selfish thing to do,¡± the Dietric answered. ¡°And to ask Majesty to cut down her forests would be as foolish as any attempt a man could make to carry those forests all the way to Foilund.¡±


    ¡°We could not be more in agreement,¡± the Empress replied. ¡°So then, tell me, what is it you ask of me?¡±


    ¡°The forests that grow in the north of Tepp are equal to those that grow in the south, are they not?¡± the Dietric asked. There was a pause, likely where the Empress nodded her assent, before the Foilunder continued. ¡°We have already spoken with the Chatti on this matter, but their answer was much the same as yours.¡±


    The Chatti, though protected under the law and sword of Aros, did not consider themselves true Arosians. They were a tributary of sorts, a free territory tied to the empire by a longstanding agreement. The land that they occupied was not only the northern most part of Aros, but also the northern most part of the continent, and as such, was closest to Foilund, separated only by a narrow sound.


    ¡°So, what do you wish me to do?¡± the Empress scoffed. ¡°The Chatti do not answer to me. If they have said no, there is little I can do.¡±


    ¡°The northern borders are strong,¡± the Dietric replied. ¡°Majesty gives many of her own men to those who do not answer to her.¡±


    There followed a long silence, during which Mouse pondered the Dietric¡¯s words, heavily laden with meaning. Could he really mean to ask what she thought? It seemed bold, outlandish, even for a Dietric. And yet, she could think of no other way to interpret his words. The Dietric, it seemed, was asking the Empress to weaken the borders, to remove her men so that he might come in and rob the Chatti of that which they would not willingly give.


    But even if the Empress had no love for the Chatti, as many knew she did not, she was still sworn to protect them, and Mouse could not believe that she would be willing to jeopardize the oath she made to them when she took the throne.


    ¡°You ask too much,¡± the Empress sighed at last.


    ¡°Majesty,¡± Sigurd replied, ¡°there is much my people can offer you. I pray you will at least consider my request.¡±


    ¡°Your request?¡± the Empress snapped. ¡°Come to me with an offer, and I will consider it. But do not waste my time with requests.¡±


    Mouse felt a sudden chill run through her. Certainly, the Empress would not truly consider what the Foilund Dietric had asked. It would be a betrayal to the Chatti people and a violation of an accord that had been in place for some hundred years. It was practically treasonous.


    Suddenly, Mouse found that she could stay within no longer. In fact, she wished she hadn¡¯t come back at all. She slipped out through the door, quietly as she had come, and walked briskly down the hall, willing herself to forget what she had just born witness to. She had no illusions about the Empress¡¯s morality, she never had. She had long sat in her meetings, listened to conversations that would make one wonder as to the soundness of the monarchy altogether, but such cunning, she could never have expected.


    She climbed the stairs to her chambers as swiftly as she could, rushing past the guards outside her door and closing it fast behind her.


    How could a night so sweet suddenly turn so bitter? She tore off her gown and without further preparation or delay, threw herself into the bed. Perhaps it had all been a dream, she told herself, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. The only thing to do now was to wait until morning to find the truth of it.

 Chapter 9: The Crooked Truth

    Mouse drew her elbow back and steadied her breath, letting the bowstring brush against her nose. She fixed her eye on the target and released, sending the arrow into flight, and it found a place near the center, though not quite where she had hoped.


    The Foilunder let out a low whistle from the partition where he sat watching her, a small block of wood in one hand and a carving knife in the other.


    ¡°You need not flatter me, sir,¡± Mouse said over her shoulder, taking up another arrow. ¡°I know how well I shoot, and I know how well I do not.¡± Though she had not been shooting for the sun painted in the very middle of the target, if her aim had been true, she would have struck one of the arms that extended outward from it, rather than the space between.


    ¡°Your modesty has no home here,¡± the Foilunder replied, returning momentarily to his work. ¡°You shoot better than myself and better than most of the men I ride with.¡± Mouse shook her head in doubt. She did not believe this could be true, but she supposed it did not signify either way.


    The northerner had been all but unrelenting in his attentions to Mouse in the days since the Foilunders¡¯ arrival at Silver Lake, and his company had provided her not only an enjoyable diversion but a welcome distraction from the conversation she had overheard in the great hall a few nights prior.


    Much to her surprise, she found that she and the Foilunder had a great deal in common. They both served under powerful leaders with whom they did not always agree. They both had a strong sense of duty that at times imposed upon their better inclinations. And they both had keen, inquisitive minds that delighted in learning about that which fell outside their ken.


    Mouse found Torben¡¯s company a refreshing change from the supercilious nobles she was accustomed to spending time with, and though they certainly had just as many differences between them as commonalities, she appreciated the way they seemed to complement one another. For while she possessed an extensive knowledge of politics and other courtly matters, the Foilunder seemed to have a more practical relationship with the world.


    Mouse could read and write and recite from the great tomes. She could dance and shoot and balance a ledger. But she could not saddle her own horse, and she could not tell a Caraspin from a Han by the way each laced their boots.


    This was not to say, however, that she had no practical knowledge of her own, for in fact, it was she who taught Torben the best place to keep a dagger in case it should be needed at a moment¡¯s notice and how to defend oneself against someone twice one¡¯s own size if taken hostage. The Foilunder¡¯s eyes had lit up with something like admiration when she demonstrated to him just how quickly she could produce a blade and disable a man who tried to take her from behind. ¡°The jewel of Aros,¡± he had said, as that what he had come to call her, ¡°is forged with strength, and no man is her equal.¡±


    Mouse was not only flattered by the notice paid her by of the Foilunder, but grateful for it. For once, she felt, someone had taken a genuine interest in her. She looked at him now, his fair hair gleaming in the early morning sun as he scraped his blade against the wood, carving out another piece for her tafl board, but found that she had to look away to still the flutter stirring in her chest. Somehow, though she could not quite understand it, it seemed as if the blue of his eyes became a shade deeper each day, the line of his jaw sharpening each time she looked upon him and the pale gold of his hair growing ever more becoming.


    ¡°A question, if I may,¡± the Foilunder said, rubbing a thumb against the wood and looking up at Mouse, a crease in his brow as he squinted against the bright morning sun. ¡°Why do you shoot with your right?¡± Mouse looked at him in confusion, wondering what he could mean.


    ¡°I do not understand the question, sir,¡± she said, the bow hanging loosely at her side.


    ¡°You shoot with your right,¡± the Foilunder said, indicating the bow with the point of his knife. ¡°Why?¡±


    Mouse looked at the northerner in bewilderment.


    ¡°Is there some reason I should not?¡± she asked, thrown off by his unexpected line of inquiry.


    Torben shrugged, stretching out his legs in front of him.


    ¡°In Foilund, we shoot with the hand that is stronger,¡± he replied. ¡°But perhaps there is some Teppish superstition that prevents it,¡± he said, scratching a finger along his chin before bringing his blade once again against the block of wood. Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± she began, though she could not seem to find the words to express her puzzlement. ¡°That is, how¡ª" The Foilunder looked back up at her, an expression of amusement now spreading across his countenance.


    ¡°Can it be,¡± he said slowly, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight, ¡°that the jewel of Aros herself does not realize that she is stronger in her left hand than she is in her right?¡±


    Mouse, for everything she was worth, did not understand. She had always shot with her right hand. She had always done everything with her right hand. How could this man with whom she was so little acquainted suddenly appear only to reveal some strange truth to her, to suggest to her that, despite the work of these past nineteen years, it was in fact her left hand that was the stronger of her two?


    She began now to search her mind for evidence to support his theory and found herself thinking of all the difficulties she had experienced in seemingly simple tasks where others had proceeded with ease. She thought about the way she had struggled to draw her letters neatly, the pen awkward and cumbersome in her hand, of how uncomfortable it felt to draw the brush across the paper, of how even needlework had made her feel clumsy and incapable.


    Perhaps, she considered now for the first time, she had been going about things all wrong. Perhaps in pursuit of imitating the Empress, of mimicking her movements as closely as possible, she had suppressed that which was natural to her. After all, was it not her left hand that she used to comb her own hair, to scrub herself in the bath, to open a door?


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    But before Mouse could think any further on the subject, Elke suddenly appeared, hastening toward her from the castle step. The little kitchen maid, much to Mouse¡¯s delight, had attached herself quite decidedly, and it was with a warm smile that Mouse now turned to greet her.


    ¡°Lady Maudeleine,¡± Elke said, bowing breathlessly, ¡°You are wanted within. I went to find you in your rooms, but you were already gone.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I rose early today,¡± said Mouse, ¡°but tell me where I am wanted, and I shall go at once.¡±


    ¡°You are wanted in the great hall,¡± Elke said, fiddling with the strings of her apron as her eyes flicked to the Foilunder who Mouse could hear now approaching from behind her. ¡°And you are to come alone.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± said Mouse. ¡°I am on my way.¡± And with another hurried bow, the girl ran back the way she came.


    Mouse started at the sudden touch of the Foilunder¡¯s hand upon her own and turned to find his blue eyes upon her.


    ¡°Go,¡± he said, his fingers pressing lightly against hers as he gently took the bow from her grasp. ¡°I will see that it is properly undone.¡± She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and bowed her gratitude to the man before hastening to where she had been called.


    ¡°When did this happen?¡± The Empress sat in her usual high seat at the table in the great hall. Mouse had come in through the side door near the front but stopped almost immediately upon entering. She had no wish to repeat her mistake of intruding upon a conversation not meant for her ears, bun there was no mistaking that this was where she had been told she was wanted.


    The table had been laid with cold meats and boiled eggs, but no one was eating, and in fact, it was only the Empress who sat.


    The men of the royal guard stood at intervals about the room, while Ulrich alone stood before the Empress, a grave expression upon his face. The room was so quiet that Mouse felt almost as though she should hold her breath.


    ¡°Some time during the course of the night, Your Majesty,¡± Ulrich replied to the Empress¡¯s question.


    ¡°And why did you not tell me sooner?¡±


    ¡°I saw no sense in waking you, Your Majesty, for something which¡ª¡±


    ¡°And I see no sense in anything that you say.¡± The Empress¡¯s words cut like a knife through the silence. The weariness was plain on Ulrich¡¯s face, and Mouse wondered what had passed to darken his countenance so. ¡°You are the head of my guard,¡± the Empress continued. ¡°And here lies a prisoner dead on your watch. Can you at least tell me how it is that he came to fall from the tower?¡±


    Mouse felt a sudden shock run through her. She had forgotten about the prisoner. Six or seven days must have passed since their arrival at Silver Lake, and little had been said about what was to become of the man. Mouse had supposed that he would be brought back to court to stand trial, but it seemed that he had met an early fate.


    ¡°We must assume, Majesty, that the man jumped,¡± Ulrich said.


    ¡°Must you?¡± the Empress countered brusquely.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Ulrich said in a measured voice, ¡°there has been a guard posted within the tower and one posted without, every hour of every day since we have arrived. There is only one door through which a man may enter, and no one came or left except for one guard coming to relieve the other.¡±


    The Empress sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, drumming her fingers against the side of her face. ¡°You say there is only one way a man might enter the tower?¡± she asked at last.


    ¡°There is only one door, Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Only one door,¡± the Empress repeated. ¡°But we are in agreement that a window that would allow for a man to fall from it would also allow for a man to enter through it.¡±


    Ulrich inclined his head to this.


    ¡°It is possible, Majesty. But a man would first have to scale the wall. And that¡ª¡± But the Empress would not let him finish.


    ¡°I understand that perfectly,¡± she said. She let out a sigh that could be heard in all corners of the room and shook her head. ¡°I am afraid I am beginning to discover a serious lack of imagination in you, Ulrich.¡±


    Mouse saw the tension pulse through the head of the guard¡¯s jaw as he clenched it tightly.


    ¡°Allow me, then,¡± continued the Empress, ¡°to present you with a scenario: If a length of rope was dropped from the tower window, being fixed at the top of course, could a man not easily scale the wall?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty,¡± replied Ulrich. But the Empress said no more, simply leaning her head into her hand, and waited.


    ¡°May I ask, Majesty,¡± said Ulrich at last, ¡°how this rope would come to be fixed at the top and why, if it was so, the prisoner would not simply use the rope to make his escape?¡±


    The Empress smiled.


    ¡°I am glad that you asked,¡± she said. ¡°To this, I present you with two possible scenarios: one is that the prisoner received the rope from below and fixed it himself, under the promise that he who provided it would assist his escape. The second is that the rope was not fixed by the prisoner, but by another man within the tower.¡±


    Ulrich made no reply to this. However unlikely the Empress¡¯s scenarios, they were both, Mouse supposed, possible. But as she turned the idea over in her mind, she realized that there were far worse implications than either, which made the idea of the man jumping himself pale in comparison.


    ¡°What you say, Your Majesty,¡± the head of guard replied with clear vexation, ¡°while not impossible, suggests that there is a conspirator among us at Silver Lake.¡± Among your own men, he left unsaid. ¡°Does it not seem more likely that the man wished to take his own life either as a result of the overwhelming shame he felt or for fear of the noose?¡±


    The corner of the Empress¡¯s mouth twitched.


    ¡°You think he jumped from the tower because he felt shame for what he had done?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Indeed, Majesty, I think it very likely,¡± Ulrich replied.


    ¡°But the man claimed it was an honest mistake, did he not?¡± the Empress asked, dropping her hand away from her face and repositioning herself in her chair.


    ¡°Indeed, Majesty, however¡ª¡±


    ¡°If it was, as he claimed, an honest mistake, what reason had he to take his own life? What reason had he to fear the noose? Is my court not a just one?¡± There was an antagonism in the Empress¡¯s tone, one that was not received well by her audience.


    ¡°Not all mistakes are equal, Majesty, and his certainly was a grave one,¡± the blond-haired head of guard said solemnly.


    ¡°I should say,¡± the Empress answered swiftly. ¡°And though he claimed to have been aiming for the horse, aiming to startle us off, those in the rear saw for themselves just how closely the arrow flew to our Mouse¡¯s ear.¡± Mouse suddenly felt all the air leave her lungs. ¡°At least someone was doing their job that day,¡± the Empress murmured sardonically.


    No, it could not be. Mouse looked about the room, at the guard who stood scattered at all corners. Was she the only one who had not realized just how close to death she had been that day? She felt her chest tighten. No, the Empress was merely casting aspersions where she could, lashing out indiscriminately as she was wont to do. That arrow had no design to kill; Mouse would not believe it.


    ¡°The men will be questioned again, Majesty,¡± Ulrich said at last.


    ¡°Not just the villagers,¡± the Empress replied. ¡°Your men as well.¡±


    The young head of guard bowed to the Empress. ¡°As Your Majesty commands,¡± he said.


    Mouse could not seem to speak, nor could she seem to bring herself to move from the spot where she stood. Could there be some truth in what the Empress said, or did she merely seek to provoke her new head of the guard, to test him? Or could it really be that there was some darker plot afoot?


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡± one of the guardsmen asked as he passed by, stirring her from her reverie. Her eyes flicked up to his face, to the dark freckles spotting the skin beneath his eyes, a tribute to hours spent standing in the sun. She smiled weakly but could not bring herself to open her lips. For the first time since their arrival, Mouse thought with a swallow, she was beginning to think that she might be happier to be back at court.

 Chapter 10: The Jewel of Aros

    Mouse drew her elbow back, squeezing her shoulder blades together. The arrow sailed through the air, landing squarely in the straw but nowhere near the center. Up, not back, she reminded herself, the words echoing in her mind as if in Leifr¡¯s own voice.


    The morning sun had not yet climbed above the wall, and dew still clung to the grass where she stood while the grounds outside lay shrouded in a fog unusually thick for the season.


    Mouse had once again risen early, but this time, it was not by choice; sleep, it seemed, had no wish to find her.


    The air at Silver Lake was thick with tension. The Empress had taken more and more to locking herself in her rooms since, turning away all who sought her, only to then appear some time later in the great hall or out upon the bailey or even at the edge of the lake, as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. But the fact was that the shadow of a dead man loomed over the entire village, and none were immune to its affliction.


    Mouse could see nothing errant in the Empress¡¯s behavior, for she understood her confliction to be the result of an ego that sought, above all else, to maintain its importance. To sit the throne, to hold any position of power, was to accept the inherent danger it placed upon one¡¯s person; yet, to allow any fear that would naturally follow as a result of such knowledge was to admit one¡¯s own humanity, to erase the line that separated monarch from man. It was almost as though, Mouse thought, it was the crown that wore the Empress, and not the other way around.


    Mouse tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear before taking up another arrow. The bow she held now was not her own, but one that had been given her by Torben. His was a simpler design, one that could easily be used with either hand, while hers was less suited to being used the other way around, fixed, as it was, with a shelf.


    In a way, Mouse found drawing with her left hand a good deal more natural, even if her musculature on that side had not been developed with an equal amount of practice. However, the movement itself still required tuning, and combined with an unfamiliar bow, she felt almost as if she was learning to shoot all over again. She lifted the bow, drawing the string taut, but at the last minute, she was caught off guard, and the arrow flew over her finger, wheeling pitifully through the air before landing in the grass.


    The sound that had caught her attention was that of the Foilunders returning from their morning rounds, which she recognized by the gentle clinking of the bronze chain worn about the Dietric¡¯s waist as he rode. Under the specter of the dead man, Sigurd had been quick to make his men useful¡ªand wisely so, thought Mouse. For the Empress, she was certain, would have taken any attempt on his part to assuage her concerns or temper her suspicions as either an admission of guilt or a sign of disregard, and her mistrust, once dealt, was unlikely to be rescinded.


    Ulrich, to his credit, had continued his investigation, seeing that every man, woman, and child was duly questioned. The prisoner, inquiry had confirmed, had been in residence at Silver Lake for many years, and though not officially a member of the guard, had been known to assist as necessity might demand. His primary occupation had been as a saddler, though his workshop had seen little use these days, the castle being seldom occupied and the Knights of Toth no longer riding through with any kind of regularity. But there were still some who might come to him for repairs if they did not wish to travel all the way to Nidda.


    Jens had been the man¡¯s name. He had never been known to carry out any violent act or speak against the crown, and was estimated on the whole to be an honest and hardworking, if unremarkable, sort of person. He seemed, by all accounts, no more or less than the man who had been brought before them begging earnestly for his life, a man who had made the foolish mistake of thinking it his duty to frighten off a flock of strange men riding upon the castle.


    ¡°Either a saddler with perfect aim,¡± the Empress had mused, her eyes dark and hard, ¡°or an assassin with less than perfect aim. Now, which seems the more likely?¡± It was a question no one could answer, one no one dared answer, and one that continued to banish sleep from Mouse¡¯s bed each night.


    Torben had become a rock to her in the tumult of her swirling thoughts and emotions, and though she dared not mention to him the conversation she had overheard between the Dietric and the Empress that first night at Silver Lake, when it came to all other matters, she found in him a ready confidant.


    The Foilunder neither sought to diminish her fears nor to exacerbate them, but instead listened to her patiently until she had somehow or other talked herself into reason, and when this failed, would distract her mind by regaling her with stories of Foilund, describing to her the intricacies of its history, its culture, and its people.


    This was how Mouse had come to learn that in Foilund, there were no Lords and Ladies, as there were in Aros, and in fact the Dietric¡¯s own men bore no titles. Though their nation was one of great wealth and their people learned, arrogance was something that was not tolerated. Those who served the Dietric were identified only by a chain made to fit the individual, each link having been earned one by one, which was worn about the head. These had been removed, stowed safely away, when the Foilunders had traveled south, but Torben was more than happy to show his own to Mouse, placing it gently upon her head. It was a warm shade of gold that spoke to its purity, and some of the links had been bent into the shape of half-moons. It was the same shape, Torben explained, that was painted on the door of his home, a large stone house that stood near Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge on the far side of the Manau.


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    But the chain was too heavy for Mouse¡¯s head, and when she placed it instead upon the Foilunder¡¯s head, the sight of him so adorned nearly took her breath away. The warmth of gold seemed to glow against his skin, and together with the gold in his ears, it cast a brilliant contrast to the dazzling blue of his eyes. She looked upon him, his pale hair twisted back away from his face and his eyes gleaming like pools of quartz, and could not help but think him handsomer than any lord or knight or king she had ever seen.


    She waited eagerly now upon the grass of the bailey to see if the man himself might appear, taking up another arrow and drawing, as if by doing so she might somehow conjure him. No sooner had she loosed than she heard his familiar voice ring out, bringing a smile at once to her lips.


    ¡°The jewel of Aros shines so brightly that even the sun blushes to rise in her presence,¡± he said, bringing his mount around the low partition that stood between them.


    ¡°Do not distract me, sir,¡± Mouse protested as she took up another arrow, ¡°or you will certainly cause my aim to falter.¡± In truth, she did not mind the Foilunder¡¯s distraction, but she need not admit as much aloud.


    ¡°I will hold my tongue for now then,¡± he replied, loosening his reins enough so that his flaxen mount might help herself to the lush grass of the bailey, ¡°but be warned that I will praise you doubly once you have allowed me to speak again.¡±


    Mouse nocked the arrow into place, drew a deep breath, and raised the bow. She let her breath settle in her chest, patiently fixing her aim, before releasing the string from between her fingers. The arrow still did not find the center of the target, but it struck closer than all the ones before. Mouse turned now with some small degree to satisfaction to face the Foilunder.


    ¡°Speak, if you will, sir,¡± she said. But to this, the Foilunder shook his head.


    ¡°You have forced me into silence too long,¡± he replied. ¡°And now instead of speaking your praise, I must sing it,¡± he said. Mouse braced herself for what might follow. ¡°The jewel of Aros,¡± he sang, ¡°looses her arrows upon the straw hearts of men.¡± Mouse began to laugh as he sang. ¡°And all who come near her are certain to fear her, for they¡¯ll never see such beauty again.¡±


    ¡°A fine bard you make,¡± Mouse said, applauding him before reaching again for the quiver. ¡°Now away with you, or I shall never improve myself.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but how does one improve upon perfection?¡±


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°Banish the sweet words from your mouth, sir,¡± she said, resting the arrow lightly against the bow, ¡°lest your teeth go soft.¡±


    ¡°As you command,¡± the Foilunder said with a laugh, gathering up his reins and turning his mount back the way he had come, ¡°jewel of Aros, lady of the left hand.¡± Mouse rolled her eyes. ¡°Rider of noble Passavant,¡± the northerner continued as he began to ride away, ¡°huntress of men¡¯s hearts.¡±


    ¡°Be gone, Torben of Foilund!¡± Mouse cried, waving him away as she unsuccessfully tried to keep a smile from her lips.


    ¡°Plume of the south,¡± the Foilunder¡¯s voice carried across the bailey slowly growing fainter, ¡°bane of boiled potatoes¡­¡±


    Mouse looked after the Foilunder, rubbing a thumb absently against the bow in her hand. She had no wish to be partial to the Foilunder. It would cause her nothing but pain, she knew, for it would only be a matter of time before they would each be forced to go their separate ways, Mouse back to Kriftel and Torben back to the far north. But struggle as she might to remain indifferent to him, it was a battle she felt certain she would lose.


    That night, Mouse dreamed that she was in Foilund. She was standing on Kingishers¡¯ Bridge, watching the powerful blue water of the Manau flow beneath her. She would not have known that it was Foilund, for she had never seen the place before, but she recognized it because at far end of the bridge stood a great stone house with a half-moon painted on the door. It was Torben¡¯s house, she knew, for it was just the way he had described it to her.


    She continued to watch the water flowing beneath her before looking up at the house on the other end. There was smoke rising from the chimney; someone must be home. Part of her wanted to cross the bridge, to walk up to the house and push open the door, to see who was inside. But another part of her was afraid, though why, she could not say.


    She could hear someone singing, their voice traveling out of the house to where she stood upon the bridge. Was it Torben? she wondered. But the sound of the river beneath her was so loud that the voice was difficult to distinguish. She found herself being drawn to the sound of the song, her curiosity getting the better of her fear, and slowly, she began to walk across the bridge.


    But before she could reach the house, an arrow suddenly flew past her head, and she turned to see the dead man standing in the middle of the bridge, aiming his bow at her.


    ¡°Please, do not hurt me!¡± she cried, her heart seized with terror. ¡°I¡¯m only a mouse!¡± for she realized now that she was.


    ¡°Are you?¡± the man said, his eyes cold and mocking. Mouse reached for her tail to show the man, to prove to him that she was nothing more than a tiny harmless creature who sought only to scurry across the bridge, but she could not seem to find it.


    ¡°Just as I thought,¡± the man sneered at her. And with that, he loosed his arrow, sending it straight between her eyes.

 Chapter 11: Bo & Sword

    Mouse shivered in the cold water of the lake, her skin raising against the chill. She muttered a curse under her breath, sputtering as she stretched her arms out in front of her to push her way through the reeds, hoping that Elke would not hear her unladylike choice of words. The day was hot, hotter than all the others before, and Mouse found that she could not endure it without at least trying to argue her way into Silver Lake¡¯s namesake. And though it had taken a good deal of persuading, she had ultimately succeeded in her object, owing at least in part, she was certain, to Elke¡¯s insistence that the lake was quite safe for swimming, and that she knew it well enough herself to know where her lady would be most shielded from view.


    Ulrich had thus eventually relented, and properly attended, Mouse had been permitted to enter the lake. Hard won as it had been, she now felt that it was incumbent upon her to enjoy herself, or at least pretend to. But the truth was that the water was too murky to be serene, too cold to be refreshing, and too deep for Mouse to do anything but shudder at the thought of what manner of strange creatures might lurk in the dark of its depths.


    On the shore stood the dark-haired guard with freckles under his eyes keeping watch as the two girls swam. ¡°Oi!¡± he shouted to Mouse. ¡°Catch us an eel while you¡¯re in there, won¡¯t you?¡± Mouse flinched upon hearing these words, not certain if the sudden sensation of something slippery sliding past her leg was real or imagined. The guardsman, Bo he was called, laughed. ¡°Go on, then!¡± he shouted. ¡°I¡¯m getting tired of carp.¡±


    ¡°Do not worry, my lady,¡± Elke said reassuringly, as she paddled through the water past Mouse. ¡°The lake has no eels, naught but fish and a few frogs.¡±


    Mouse tried to smile, as though she had not taken to heart the guardsman¡¯s jest, but as it was, it was all she could do to keep from swimming to shore as fast as she could and running all the way back to the castle.


    ¡°Do you swim in the lake often?¡± she asked the little kitchen maid who drifted through the water with ease, seeking not only to change the topic of conversation but also to hide her discomfort.


    ¡°From time to time, my lady,¡± Elke replied, ¡°when the heat grows strong and my duties are light.¡±


    ¡°And you find the water to be¡­pleasant?¡± Mouse asked, shivering as she kicked her legs against a weed that had tangled them.


    ¡°Not so pleasant as the water where I come from,¡± the girl confessed, turning gracefully onto her back to look up at the sky.


    ¡°And where is it you come from?¡± Mouse asked, a note of genuine interest in her voice. She had naturally assumed the girl to be from Loquin, if not from the village of Silver Lake itself.


    ¡°I was born in Ahnderland, as a matter of fact,¡± the girl replied, waving her arms out to her sides to keep afloat.


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Mouse, brightening at this. ¡°So you are Elke of Ahnderland then.¡± The girl smiled sheepishly, sunlight dancing across her face and reflecting in her dark eyes. Though it came as something of a surprise that she should hail from as far away as Ahnderland, it certainly did explain her dark features and the unfamiliar tunes she was wont to hum as she attended Mouse.


    ¡°In a manner of speaking, my lady,¡± she replied. ¡°My mother named me for Elke of Ahnderland, the real one, that is.¡±


    ¡°Emperor Lothar¡¯s wife,¡± Mouse said, ¡°the royal consort.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, my lady,¡± said Elke, wiping lake water from her face. ¡°My mother loved her dearly, and even before I was born, she always knew I would be named for her.¡± Mouse raised an eyebrow in surprise.


    ¡°Your mother knew Elke of Ahnderland?¡± she asked, her curiosity now truly serving to distract her from her former discomfort.


    ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± the girl answered with a hint of pride in her voice. ¡°She was her handmaiden.¡±


    It now began to make sense to Mouse not only how a kitchen maid from Ahnderland had come to live at Silver Lake but how she had come to speak so eloquently, to bear such distinguished manners. The girl, she realized, had probably been raised with the ambition of someday becoming a lady¡¯s maid, if not to the Empress, then to another member of the nobility.


    ¡°May I ask where your mother is now?¡± Mouse asked, kicking her way slowly through the water.


    ¡°Sadly, my lady, she is gone,¡± Elke replied with only a touch of sadness in her voice. ¡°Her and my father went together last year.¡±


    Mouse lowered her face into the water, feeling an unexpected twinge in her heart at these words. For a girl so young to lose both her parents at once¡ªwell, if anyone understood how difficult it could be, it was Mouse.


    ¡°I am so sorry to hear it,¡± she said solemnly. ¡°It is a terrible thing to lose one¡¯s parents.¡±


    Mouse now herself turned over onto her back, gazing up at blue sky unbroken by clouds and watching a cherith bird fly overhead. If the girl had no parents, she thought to herself, perhaps there was no reason that she should be required to stay at Silver Lake. Perhaps she was free to go elsewhere. Though the idea had occurred to Mouse more than once how lovely it might be to bring the girl back with her to Kriftel, close as they had become, she had not considered that it might be a real possibility.


    ¡°Elke,¡± Mouse said gently, turning her head to look at the girl, ¡°I hope that you know that you have given your parents every reason to be proud of you.¡±


    ¡°You are too kind, my lady,¡± the girl smiled, ducking her head beneath the water before bringing it back up and pushing the water from her face. Mouse wished that she could share her hope with the girl that they might return to Kriftel together, where Elke could become her handmaiden, the way the girl¡¯s own mother had for Elke of Ahnderland. But she did not want to be premature in her plans, for the last thing she wanted was to make a promise which she may not be able to keep. So instead, she said nothing of the matter, and merely continued to allow herself to drift across the silver-blue water of the lake.


    However, it was not long before the cold once again begin to grip her, and she pushed a few wet strands of hair from her face as glanced toward the shore where Bo the guard stood watch.


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    ¡°Elke,¡± she said, a mischievous smile beginning to form on her mouth, ¡°why don¡¯t we find our way out of the water? We can check the bushes for berries, and you can thank Bo for keeping watch by giving him a nice big hug.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s hair laid across her shoulders, soaking the back of her linen gown as the cart bumped along through the grass, pulled by a makeshift rig fixed to Bo¡¯s dark gelding, Shergar. The sun upon her crown and shoulders provided a welcome wave of warmth, and even Elke, who had not seemed to mind the cold of the lake, looked grateful for the bright rays that now bathed them both, closing her eyes and turning her face upwards to meet the sun.


    As they drew nearer the castle, Mouse noticed two figures on horseback just outside the wall. And though she could not make out their features at such a distance, she could tell Wind¡¯s Whip the moment she laid eyes on the dark blue roan. It was the Empress and the Dietric, she realized, feeling a sense of unease begin to settle over her.


    ¡°Bo,¡± she called up to the guardsman, eager to avoid any unnecessary encounter with either of the party that stood between them and the castle. ¡°Might you not carry us into the village? I have as of yet seen little of it, and we are certainly in no hurry to be locked away indoors on so fine a day.¡± The dark-haired guardsman looked back at her with a raised brow.


    ¡°A fine day it may be to you,¡± he quipped, ¡°but to those of us in plate, it is little short of torment.¡± Mouse bit her lip. She could not argue against a heat that had been intense enough to seduce her into the lake.


    ¡°Not for long,¡± she entreated. ¡°I should only like to see the square and the mill.¡±


    The guardsman laughed.


    ¡°Are you really so desperate to avoid seeing that northern suitor of yours that you would have me risk my post?¡± he asked. Mouse felt her cheeks burn at this remark, and she glared at the back of Bo¡¯s dark head. Torben could hardly be called a suitor, and besides this, she had no wish to avoid him, or at least no conscious wish. But she could not deny that she was beginning to grow wary of the fact that the regard which she felt for the man seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.


    She would have liked to make some to clever reply to the guardsman¡¯s provocation but could think of nothing, and at last, she gave up on this and turned to a new tactic.


    ¡°If you oblige my request,¡± she began, ¡°I shall make it worth your while.¡±


    ¡°And how precisely do you mean to do that?¡± the freckled guard smirked over his shoulder as the cart continued to jostle over the grass toward the castle.


    ¡°I will put in a good word for you with Lady Mathilde,¡± Mouse said with something of a cloying smile. Now it was Bo¡¯s turn to blush. Even from where Mouse sat in the little cart that bumped along behind the horse, she could see his ears turn pink.


    Bo made no reply to this, but instead of turning in toward the lane that led to the castle, he drove his horse onward, until at last they entered the village. Two victories in one day, thought Mouse, congratulating herself upon her cleverness. Perhaps the cherith bird had brought her luck.


    Once in the village, the ride became even bumpier than it had been upon the open field, but Bo was a strict master and would not allow either of the girls to step so much as a foot outside of the cart. The village itself was small and unremarkable, but Mouse did not mind.


    ¡°There is the larder,¡± said Elke, pointing to a small building on the right, ¡°and the candle maker.¡± Mouse nodded, as if all the buildings did not look the same. ¡°And there is the bourrelier.¡± Mouse felt her interest pique at this, craning her neck to try and see into the saddle maker¡¯s workshop, as if some dark secret hiding within might suddenly burst forth through the windows. But as it was, it appeared as any other little-used workshop might¡ªdark and dusty and in something of ill repair.


    They had drawn through the village square and were about to head back toward the castle when Mouse suddenly called for Bo to stop. One of the Foilunders was there, on the far side of the square near a narrow alley, a wooden sword in his hand. Mouse recognized the man, though she did not know his name, and while she did not wish to draw undue attention, she was curious to see what he was about.


    In front of him, stood a skinny boy with dirty knees holding a wooden sword of his own. The Foilunder, it seemed, was trying to teach him how to riposte, but the boy could not seem to move past the parry.


    ¡°My lady likes the Foilunders, does she not?¡± asked Elke, looking up at Mouse, who was watching the fair-haired giant of a man make himself small to meet the boy¡¯s wooden blade.


    ¡°I do,¡± Mouse said, ¡°on the whole. I think them fine men with sound minds and sturdy hearts,¡± she said. ¡°And despite what some might think, they are not so different from us.¡± Elke seemed to consider these words as she looked at the man who towered in the front of the boy who was probably no taller than herself.


    ¡°Come now,¡± Bo called, suddenly jumping down from his mount and drawing the attention of nearby villagers and the Foilunder alike. ¡°Let us show the boy how it is done.¡± He unbelted his sword and walked round to the side of the cart to hand it to Mouse.


    ¡°Not a word,¡± he said, as she took it from him, his grey eyes gleaming puckishly as he lifted an arm so that she might begin to undo his fastenings. Mouse worked quickly, eager to see how the confident young guardsman might fair against a man a head taller than himself.


    Bo strode up to the Foilunder, taking the wooden sword from the hand of the awe-stricken boy and swinging it about with a flourish before taking his stance.


    ¡°Before we begin,¡± said the Foilunder, his eyes as bright with animation as Bo¡¯s own, ¡°might I ask the punishment for striking a man of the royal guard?¡±


    ¡°That is not something I think you will need to worry about, my friend,¡± smiled Bo.


    It was clear even before they began that neither man was seeking to demonstrate anything that might actually be of use. All they wanted was an excuse to spar, and now they had it.


    A lunge was deflected, and a slash was parried and on and on, all with the villagers looking on excitedly. Even Elke could not help but to lean herself halfway out of the cart to watch.


    It was funny, Mouse thought as she watched the two men strike at each other time and again, for though each was highly skilled and had undergone years of rigorous training, the swords in their hands were little more than toys.


    Mouse wondered if they might not go on forever, so light were their weapons and so little fatiguing, but it was at precisely that moment that a loose stone turned under Bo¡¯s foot, knocking him off his balance. He might have regained himself quite easily, had this not caused his parry to fail, but as it happened, the Foilunder¡¯s weapon came down upon his collar with a fierce crack.


    Bo winced in pain at the blow, the sword falling at once from his hand and clattering upon the ground, while the Foilunder drew back in shock. It was clear by the look on his face that he would not have brought down his weapon with such force had he not expected the blow to be blocked.


    Mouse at once leapt from the cart, hastening herself to the injured guardsman.


    ¡°Get back in the cart, Mouse,¡± he groaned. ¡°It¡¯s not broken.¡± He inhaled sharply through his teeth. ¡°At least I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    Mouse put a hand under his elbow, lifting it to test the truth of his words.


    ¡°Enough of that,¡± he grimaced, lifting a hand in concession to the Foilunder who had put down his own sword and looked by all accounts truly sorry for what he had done.


    ¡°Back to the castle,¡± Mouse said to the northerner over her shoulder. ¡°Quick as you can, and call for the surgeon.¡±


    ¡°I meant the man no harm,¡± the Foilunder began, but Mouse cut in before he could say anything more.


    ¡°I know,¡± she said curtly. ¡°It¡¯s for your own good, sir.¡± The northerner knit his brow in confusion, before glancing about at the villagers who stood staring at him. The faces that had looked at him with admiration mere moments ago now looked at him with distrust and anger. He was no longer a Foilunder; he was a foreigner, a towering, sword-wielding stranger who had struck one of the Empress¡¯s men.


    The Foilunder nodded at Mouse, dropping his eyes before turning and hastening away. Mouse was glad to know that his pride was not enough to impinge upon his conscience, but still, she felt sorry for him, though not as sorry as she felt for Bo. The injured guardsman squeezed his eyes shut in anguish, breathing sharply as she helped him back to the horse and cart.


    ¡°Do not worry,¡± she said, guiding him gently by the waist as he muttered curse after curse to himself. ¡°I will make the whole affair sound much more heroic when I tell the story to Mathilde.¡±

 Short Story: The Best Dog in the World

    Peticru was no ordinary dog. And not just because he lived in a castle and dined on mutton and liver. No, it was more than that. You see, Peticru was the Best Dog in the World. He did not know if it was because of his velvety blue coat or his wet brown nose or his soft, rounded ears. But it was something that he had been told all his life, and after about the hundredth time hearing it, he began to believe it himself and decided it must be true.


    Peticru had no master; he was master of himself. And every day he went where he pleased and did as he liked. He pranced about the royal grounds, wagging his long whip of a tail, and at night he slept on whichever finely woven rug he chose. He knew that he was different from other dogs¡ªnot just because he was the Best Dog in the World, but also because he had a special gift: he could make people happy simply by appearing. He could not help it any more than he could understand it, but everywhere that Peticru went, happiness seemed to follow.


    He knew how rare a gift this was. That is why he spent so much time visiting as many people as he could. It was often tiring work, but he was careful to take plenty of naps throughout the day so as not to spread himself too thin. Luckily, he seemed to bring just as much joy when in repose as he did when he was awake, so little was lost by his proclivity for a nice long wink.


    Petricru liked making people happy. And in fact, his work as Bringer of Joy was doubly rewarding, for he found that if you made people happy, they were more apt to do things like feed you table scraps and rub your belly and scratch that spot between your shoulder blades that you can never seem to reach yourself.


    But even Peticru knew that there was more to life than work; it was also important to pursue one¡¯s own interests. And Peticru¡¯s primary interest, his greatest pleasure outside of spreading joy, was sniffing out mischief. Sniffing out mischief was great fun, and once you learned to do it, it really was not so difficult.


    The best way to sniff out mischief, Peticru had found, was by going somewhere you knew you weren¡¯t supposed be and doing something you knew you weren¡¯t supposed to do. This could be running through the kitchens after the cook, snapping at his heels, sneaking into someone¡¯s bedchambers and wetting their blankets, or even something simple, like pulling a turkey off a table or jumping into the bath with someone.


    But the best part of sniffing out mischief, the thing that made it all feel worthwhile, was the Chase. The Chase did not always happen as a matter of course, but if you did things right, you could get lucky, and the Chase, once it began, might go on for hours. The most certain way to instigate the Chase was to take something that someone wanted very much, something which they did not want you to have.


    It was a fine summer day when Peticru found himself lying in the grass, wondering if he shouldn¡¯t sniff out some mischief. He had spent all morning delivering happiness among the guardsmen who stood outside the castle gates and had just woken up from a hard-earned nap. He let out a great yawn and stretched his legs as long as he could. He was still a bit sleepy, and the sun felt warm and wonderful on his shiny blue coat.


    He licked at his paws, which tasted deliciously of dirt, and thought about going back to sleep. But then, he heard a noise. Splash! His ears perked up. He knew that sound. It was the sound of water. Splash! The noise came again.


    Petricu gathered his energy and rose to his four nimble paws. He was curious to find the source of the sound (though he was fairly certain he knew from where it had come), but not before taking another nice long stretch. He allowed himself one final yawn for good measure, and then he padded off in the direction of the lake.


    Sure enough, when he got there, he found two humans gliding about in the cool blue water. He crept around the bushes, wondering if it mightn¡¯t be fun to spring out suddenly and leap into the water between them and splash all about. If he was lucky, he might even startle them so much they would wave their arms about and scream all the way to shore where they would clamber out of the water and run away as fast as they could. Yes, that did sound like a good deal of fun.


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    But before he could find a good spot between the shrubs from which to pounce, Peticru smelled something. It was a wonderful, musky smell. He pressed his nose to the ground, trying to trace where the scent was coming from. He sniffed and sniffed but found little more than worms. He lifted his nose up into the air. The smell was not coming from the ground; it was coming from above him.


    He looked up, and that¡¯s when he saw it. It was some sort of human thing, a cloth that had been hung atop the bushes. Peticru sniffed at it. It smelled of sweat and goose grease and a million other delightful things. He pressed his nose into it, reveling in the strange amalgamation of scents. It must be someone¡¯s clothing, he realized, perhaps the humans swimming about the lake.


    Petricu stuck out his long pink tongue and licked. The clothing did not taste of much, and such a disappointed was this to the slender blue dog that he nearly turned and left then and there. But then, he had an idea. The Chase. What better way to instigate the Chase than to take the human clothing, which he was certain they would want and which he was certain they would not want him to have, and abscond with it? Peticru had hardly ever been so proud of himself. Even if he was the Best Dog in the World, this was a clever scheme indeed.


    Wasting no more time, he stood up on his two back legs and snatched down the clothing. He was so excited at his retrieval, he nearly ran off straight away. But then he remembered something: in order for the Chase to work, you must let the humans catch you in the Act of Instigation.


    With a mouth full of linen, Peticru walked out from behind the bush and stood along the edge of the lake where he was certain the humans could see him. All that was left to do now was wait. He could hear the humans laughing, the voice of a man and a woman whispering to one another as they floated about in the water. They seemed somewhat distracted, and he hoped he would not have to wait long. But it was no more than a few moments before he heard the sound he had been waiting for: a gasp.


    The humans had seen him, alright, but still, Peticru waited. They were coming toward the shore in haste, their voices rising in distress. Peticru bent his knees, ready to spring away at any moment, and the humans, as if in response to this change in posture, slowed their movements.


    ¡°Nice doggy,¡± the man said as he began to climb out of the lake. ¡°Be a good boy, now.¡± Peticru could feel his saliva soaking the linen in anticipation. ¡°Why don¡¯t you drop what you¡¯ve got and I¡¯ll give you a bone.¡±


    Peticru¡¯s ears lifted. A bone? He liked bones. In fact, he liked them very much. His mouth began to slacken. Bones were wonderful. They tasted of meat and marrow, and you could chew on them for hours. Now that he thought about it, a bone might be almost as enjoyable as the Chase. But still he did not drop his bundle.


    The man was out of the water now, stalking slowly toward him. ¡°That¡¯s a good doggy,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Drop it and I¡¯ll give you a nice juicy bone.¡± A juicy bone, was it then? The man hadn¡¯t mentioned that before. Yes, a juicy bone might change things. There was little in the world that Peticru loved more than a juicy bone. The juicer the better, he had always thought.


    The man was nearly upon him, his feet lifting slowly across the grass. ¡°Good boy,¡± he said. ¡°Good doggy.¡± Peticru watched him, his mouth wet and hungry. Dash the Chase; he was perfectly ready to lie down in the sun and enjoy his nice juicy bone.


    But wait¡ªjust where was this bone? He could not see that the man was holding one, and he hadn¡¯t any clothes. So where was he hiding this bone he had so readily offered?


    Petricu, it seemed, had been duped, and much to his discontent. But the man would not get away with it. Oh, no. Luckily for the clever blue dog, he still held the linen in his mouth. And just as the man reached toward him, his fingertips extended toward the bundle clenched tightly in the dog¡¯s jaws, Peticru ran. The man lurched toward him, but he was no match for the long-legged dog. Peticru looked back to see the man stumbling after him, but he could not keep his feet for long, and soon fell down flat in the grass. But Petricu did not stop. He ran and ran with such speed and such glee, until the man¡¯s curses and the woman¡¯s screams could no longer be heard.


    When at last he had worn himself out, Peticru decided to pay a visit to the kitchens. He had had his share of mischief and though he might spread a bit of his happiness. He strode in, having dropped the linen some time ago in some place he could not quite remember, and walked up to the kitchen maid, licking her leg. She looked down at Peticru with a smile on her face and patted him on the head.


    ¡°I¡¯ve something for you,¡± she said, ¡°something very special indeed.¡± And with that, she reached across the counter, grabbing an object which she then placed in Peticru¡¯s mouth. It was a bone¡ªa nice juicy one. Peticru wagged his tailed in gratitude and laid down at once to gnaw on his prize. The kitchen maid leaned down to give him another gentle pat on the head, cooing as Peticru gave her hand a grateful lick. ¡°Well now, Peticru, aren¡¯t you just the Best Dog in the World.¡±

 Chapter 12: The Cherith Bird

    Mouse paced about her chambers, her hands clasped behind her back to keep from wringing them nervously.


    The surgeon had pronounced that poor Bo¡¯s collarbone, though not shattered, had likely suffered a fracture, and while he prescribed nothing more than pomace wine for the pain, advised that the guardsman should not lift anything heavier than a feather for a duration of at least the next several weeks. Though she had been assured by Bo himself more than once that she could not hold herself responsible for the actions of two grown men, she could not help but feel guilty for the part she had played in the incident.


    The Foilunder who dealt the injurious blow had been mercifully brief in his description of what had happened, but Mouse knew that sooner or later, word would come up from the village, and what rumor did not adulterate, it was certain to exaggerate. It would be better, she told herself, if the Empress heard the truth of the matter from her own lips, even if she did dread telling it.


    Petricru lay sleeping at the foot of the bed, and Mouse crossed to him, hoping to seek some comfort. ¡°Let us pray your master is in a forgiving mood,¡± she said, kneeling to stroke his slender blue neck. The lanky hound stretched out his legs and rolled onto his back. Though he was the Empress¡¯s dog, he was equally fond of Mouse, and she always found that being in his presence somehow lightened a heavy air.


    Just then, there came a knock at the door, and Mouse reluctantly rose, answering it to a stout little kitchen maid with dirty blonde hair.


    ¡°You are wanted in the Empress¡¯s cupboard,¡± the girl said. Mouse looked at her curiously for a moment, unsure of how to interpret her words.


    ¡°Oh!¡± she cried, at the sudden realization. ¡°You mean her cabinet.¡± The girl nodded.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Mouse sighed, casting a forlorn glance over her shoulder at Peticru, who lay on his back at the foot of the bed without a care in the world, before following the maid out of the room and down the hall.


    Mouse had not known what to expect when she entered the Empress¡¯s cabinet, but it was certainly not what transpired.


    ¡°Good, you are here,¡± the Empress said brusquely the moment Mouse stepped foot into the room. ¡°There is ink on the desk.¡±


    Mouse stood in a momentary state of confusion before being urged by an impatient look from the Empress to the polished oak desk that stood against the wall. The room was dim, though the sun was yet high, for the tasseled cerulean curtains had been drawn shut, the corner of one caught clumsily on the edge of the desk. A candle had been lit, Mouse saw, and the scent of beeswax hung heavily in the air.


    ¡°To Puente Qalina,¡± the Empress said, without waiting for her stationery to be ready. Mouse hurriedly slid open the drawers of the desk one by one until at last, one yielded a sheet of parchment, and drawing her chair to the desk, readied her pen.


    ¡°Dearest Uncle,¡± the Empress dictated as she stepped slowly from one side of the small room to the other. ¡°You are wanted in my court at your earliest convenience, preferably before Sensommer.¡± Mouse blotted her pen, waiting patiently for the Empress to continue. There was a long silence.


    ¡°All my love,¡± the Empress said, ¡°Ida.¡±


    Mouse lifted her hand hesitantly from the paper, turning to look at the Empress, who now stood staring at a landscape of Silver Lake that hung in a gilded frame on the wall. It was a massive composition that covered nearly the entire wall and had been a gift from the village to their monarch. Mouse knew because she remembered the very day it was hung.


    ¡°Does Your Majesty wish to include anything else?¡± she prompted delicately. ¡°Perhaps an inquiry into Lady Maria¡¯s health or an advisement as to how many carriages Lord Marius should bring?¡±


    ¡°I have said everything I wish to,¡± the Empress replied without turning her attention from the painting. ¡°But you are certainly welcome to include those embellishments which you find necessary.¡±


    Mouse returned her pen to the parchment, conjuring up some pleasantries that might make the paltry correspondence a bit less awkward and a bit more inviting.


    ¡°Leave it when you¡¯ve done,¡± the Empress said. ¡°I shall see to the rest.¡±


    Mouse wrote slowly and carefully, waiting for the ink of each line to dry before beginning the next.


    It was curious that the Empress should wish to write to her uncle at such a time, thought Mouse. Sensommer marked the beginning of the Feast of the Fourteen, an Arosian holiday that celebrated the Toth line, a family that Lord Marius had no connection to outside of his sister¡¯s marriage. Lord Marius was brother to the late Elke of Ahnderland and had been in line to rule the kingdom of Ahnderland. However, his sister, Elke¡¯s marriage to Emperor Lothar had joined the kingdom to the Empire of Aros, reducing his former title of crown prince to a mere lordship.


    Though he had never displayed any outward animosity to his Arosian kin, Mouse could not help but wonder if he did not bear some kind of grudge, especially toward the young Empress, whose birth robbed him of both a beloved sister and his own succession to the crown. To deliberately invite him to a place where he would be surrounded by a sea of Toths reveling in their own glory for a fortnight while he himself was reminded of all that he had lost seemed insensitive at best and inciting at worst.


    Yet, Mouse reminded herself as she put the final touches on the correspondence, she could not presume to understand the sentiments with which the letter might be received any more than she could presume to understand the intent with which it had been composed.


    She watched the last line of ink dry in the candlelight, wondering how Lord Marius might react to reading it and hoping that her own additions would soften the blow of its contents, when suddenly, the Empress spoke.


    ¡°Two men our northern friends have now cost me,¡± she said, crossing to the window and lifting the curtain with a finger to peer out of it. ¡°Let us see if they are worth all the trouble they cause.¡±


    If Mouse found the letter strange, this was truly bizarre. She looked up at the Empress with something of concern, wondering if she dared inquire into her meaning. But before she could open her lips, she was dismissed, and finding her curiosity to be outweighed by a sudden urgency to leave, she departed out of the room and down the hall.


    Mouse walked down the stairs, finding it difficult to shake the thought of Puente Qalina from her mind and wishing that there was someone at Silver Lake with whom she might discuss such matters.


    Somewhat unexpectedly, she found herself thinking of Ludger. She thought of their frequent conferences, of the way he would stare at her through cold grey eyes, his hands folded over the bulge of his stomach, as he prodded her with questions and cogitations. He, she was certain, would have something to say on the matter.


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    As she walked past the great hall and on toward the courtyard, her mind continued to drift. She thought of the rows and row of tomes on Ludger¡¯s bookshelf from which she would recite, each one known intimately to her. She thought of the royal portraits that hung on his wall, one of Emperor Lothar and one of Elke of Ahnderland but none of Empress Idalia. She thought of the small wooden box with a brass latch and ivy on the lid that the old man had given to her mere days before they had set out for Silver Lake.


    She realized now just how much she had not thought of, how much she had forgotten, how much she had been ready to leave behind. Even the dead man from the tower and the arrows he had sent toward her and the specter that seemed to hang over all of Silver Lake had not crossed her mind in many days.


    She stopped now at the edge of the courtyard and looked out. There, on a stone bench beneath a Prusian silk tree sat Torben. His golden hair shone in the sun, the light dancing across his face as a plume of pink drifted down from the tree and landed gently upon his knee. He sat with a carving knife in hand, his attention fixed wholly upon his work. He was so beautiful, thought Mouse as she watched him from a distance, like a scene from a fairytale. Here was where all her thoughts had been.


    She stood quietly watching the Foilunder for a few moments, enjoying not just the way he looked, but the way she felt when she looked at him, when he stopped and lifted an arm to wipe his brow, suddenly catching notice of her. His eyes at once brightened and he called out to her.


    ¡°Jewel of Aros,¡± he said. ¡°Will you not come and warm my bench?¡± Mouse let a smile spread over her lips as she walked out into the courtyard.


    ¡°That depends,¡± she said as she crossed to where the Foilunder sat. ¡°Will you show me what you are working so diligently upon?¡± Torben held up the small piece of wood.


    ¡°It is the last piece for your tafl board,¡± he answered proudly, palming the thing before Mouse could get close enough to make it out. ¡°But you cannot see it until it is finished.¡±


    Mouse sat down on the bench next to him, glad to find that it was not so cold as she had feared. The Foilunder leaned an arm on the back of the bench and took her in for a moment, his blue eyes traveling across her face.


    ¡°Tell me what is on your mind,¡± he said, a slight furrow creasing his brow.


    Mouse swallowed a sigh. There were many things on her mind, most of which she was not at liberty to discuss with the Foilunder. She looked out across the courtyard, at the Prusian silks and lindens that shaded the walkways, at the little black birds that hopped about through tufts of chamomile and rows of mallows.


    ¡°Have you ever heard the story of the cherith bird?¡± she asked, turning back to the Foilunder.


    ¡°What is a cherith bird?¡± he asked. Mouse laughed.


    ¡°I shall assume, then, that you have not,¡± she said with a smile.


    ¡°You assume correctly,¡± the Foilunder answered, his warm eyes inviting her to continue as he returned to his work.


    ¡°The story goes back to when Aros was a small kingdom,¡± Mouse began, ¡°no bigger than the Chatti lands. It encompassed only the area between Poth and Pothes Mar, and it was ruled over by King Wazo. Wazo the Wise he was called.¡±


    ¡°Wazo the Wise?¡± The Foilunder lifted an eyebrow in amusement, but Mouse continued.


    ¡°Wazo had one daughter, Princess Cherith. Cherith, young, lovely, and full of spirit as she was, had fallen in love with a handsome young knight called Sir Roderick.¡±


    ¡°A handsome knight, you say?¡± Torben interjected. ¡°He did not happen to hail from Foilund, did he?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± smiled Mouse. ¡°But where he hailed from is beside the point. Now, to secure a peace with the neighboring kingdom of Caldiff, Princess Cherith was bound by duty to marry Prince Georund. However, Wazo, wise as he was, feared that Cherith¡¯s love for the knight Roderick, if allowed to continue, would interfere with the marriage arrangement between Cherith and Georund, thus causing the alliance between the two kingdoms to fall on tenuous ground. So, in order to separate the two young lovers and ensure that the marriage would proceed as planned, Wazo had Sir Roderick sent to the southern fronts.¡±


    ¡°Wise but cold-hearted, this Wazo,¡± the Foilunder remarked.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Mouse said. ¡°Now, Princess Cherith, heartbroken to find that her knight had been sent away and fearing for his life and wellbeing, decided to sneak away from the palace and go to the Zauberwald to seek out Old Holle, a heks who was rumored to live in the darkest, most hidden corner of the forest.¡±


    Mouse watched the Foilunder rub the shaving from the wooden piece as he listened.


    ¡°Once Cherith had found Old Holle,¡± Mouse continued, ¡°she began to plead with her. ¡®Please,¡¯ she said to the crook-nosed heks, ¡®you must help me. My knight has been sent to battle. Is there not some charm you might cast to protect him?¡¯


    ¡®I cannot protect your knight any more than the moon can protect the earth from the sun,¡¯ Old Holle replied.


    ¡®Then turn me into a bird,¡¯ begged Cherith. ¡®That way I can fly south and protect Sir Roderick myself, following wherever he goes so that no harm may come to him.¡¯


    ¡®Very well,¡¯ replied Old Holle, ¡®but know that once you have been turned into a bird, there will be no turning you back. Beaked and feathered will you remain all the rest of your days.¡¯


    Cherith knew that this meant that she would never again hold her gallant Sir Roderick in her arms, but she agreed nonetheless, and the old heks at once granted her wish, turning the beautiful young princess into a small black bird with a red-tipped beak.¡±


    ¡°Ah, a cherith birth,¡± said the Foilunder, looking up and pointing with his knife to one of the small black birds flittering about the courtyard. Mouse smiled and nodded.


    ¡°No sooner had she been transformed than Cherith flew to the south to seek out her knight. After a week of flying without rest, she finally found him on the field, every bit as handsome as the day he had left the palace. But her joy at finding him was soon replaced by dread, for she realized that he was in battle, a man from the opposing army charging at him with a sword.


    Cherith flew toward the assailer, flapping her wings and pecking at his eyes, until she drove him off the field and into a ditch. She had saved her Sir Roderick from what otherwise was like to be certain death.¡±


    ¡°Brave and noble Cherith,¡± remarked the Foilunder, blowing dust from the small wooden figure.


    ¡°Brave and noble Cherith,¡± Mouse echoed. ¡°The next day, she followed Roderick once again onto the field. This time, she saw a man riding at him with a spear in his hand. Cherith flew toward the assailer, landing on the spear and pulling it with all her might, pecking at the man¡¯s fingers to loosen his grip until at last, she wrested the spear from him. She had saved Sir Roderick yet again.¡±


    Torben raised an impressed eyebrow and nodded in approval as Mouse went on.


    ¡°Each day proceeded much as the one before: Sir Roderick would ride into battle, and Cherith would be there, flapping her little black wings ferociously and doing whatever a creature of her size could to protect her beloved Roderick.


    One day, as Sir Roderick rode into battle, Cherith noticed an archer upon a hill who had fixed her noble knight in his sights. As he loosed his arrow, Cherith flew to meet it, hoping to catch the shaft in her small black talons. But try as she might, she was not quick enough, and instead of catching the arrow in her talons, she caught it in her wing.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± cried Torben in protestation.


    ¡°Yes!¡± answered Mouse. ¡°She fell at once from the sky to the earth below, crying out in pain as she landed upon the field. Sir Roderick, recognizing the bird as the one who had been following him, leapt from his horse, gently scooping up the injured creature and holding it in his palms.


    As he looked down at the little black bird who lay dying in his hands, he felt a sudden twinge within his heart. It was his Cherith, there was no denying it. If it was not enough that she had risked her own life for him, he could tell by the way his heart wrenched in pain at the sight of her suffering.¡±


    Torben stopped and looked up at Mouse expectantly.


    ¡°Well?¡± he prompted.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Mouse, ¡°there are two ways the story ends. Some say that the poor bird perished of her wounds, whereupon Sir Roderick died of a broken heart. Others say that the knight rode with the bird tucked gently to his side all the way to the Zauberwald where Old Holle mended Cherith¡¯s wounds and turned Roderick himself into a bird so that the two might live happily together all the rest of their days.¡±


    ¡°I prefer the second,¡± he said, his blue eyes twinkling softly in the late afternoon sun as he handed Mouse the small wooden piece he had been carving. Mouse looked down at it, studying the details etched into the tiny figure. While most tafl pieces were simple with little more than a face, if anything, carved into the surface, the one the Foilunder presented her with was elaborately designed, bearing a remarkable amount of detail, especially considering its size. Mouse studied it in admiration, rubbing her fingers across the surface to feel the lines delicately carved into it, a smile blooming on her lips.


    Instead of a man with a shield, as some of the others had been, this one was a woman holding a bow.


    Mouse looked up at the Foilunder, her heart swelling with warmth as she looked into those brilliant eyes that shone back at her, those eyes that somehow saw so much of her that she could not see herself. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but when she opened her lips, she found that her voice came out as little more than a whisper.


    ¡°As do I,¡± was all she could say.

 Chapter 13: The Last Rose of Versanth

    The banquet that night began as a sober affair, with the injured guardsman adding to the growing list of aggravations that marked their journey; however, it did not remain as such, for though the Empress had been in something of a foul temper up until that point, Mouse marked a kind of levity in her disposition, as though she had just made some great jest and was waiting for everyone else to catch on.


    She had consented, much to the chamberlain¡¯s gratification, to at last allow that a nice fattened swine be butchered and laid upon the table for all to enjoy, but the greatest surprise to them all was when a bard strolled into the hall with a lute in hand, who turned out to be the very same bard of bawdy songs with whom they had crossed paths on their way to Silver Lake.


    To add to the jollity of such an evening, the Foilunders had produced several flasks of some clear pungent stuff, a spirit of their homeland that smelled strongly of pears but, Mouse wrinkled her nose, tasted of peels and caraway. Food and drink all was heartily partaken of, the effect of which was much merriment, laughter, and camaraderie.


    It was when the bard was singing ¡°The Last Rose of Versanth,¡± and got to the line about the woman who kissed fewer men on her wedding night than she did on an ordinary Sunday that the Foilunder, who was sat as usual next to Mouse, turned to her in confusion.


    ¡°It is an Arosian wedding custom,¡± explained Mouse, ¡°that when the groom makes himself scarce, all the men in the place run up quick as they can to kiss the bride, and the same thing happens the other way around.¡± The Foilunder looked stunned to hear this revelation, almost as though he did not believe Mouse.


    ¡°You need not look so shocked,¡± she said with a laugh, noting the concern he wore on his face. ¡°It is all in good fun.¡± The Foilunder poured himself a drink.


    ¡°Such a thing would never happen in Foilund,¡± he said in a somewhat serious tone.


    ¡°No?¡± smiled Mouse, holding out her own cup for him to fill. He bent his head and obliged her.


    ¡°You see,¡± he began, pouring carefully into her cup, ¡°we Foilunders only kiss the one to whom we make our vows¡ª¡± He replaced the jug upon the table. ¡°¡ªand often not until those vows have been made.¡±


    Now it was Mouse¡¯s turn to look surprised.


    ¡°You mean to say that you do not kiss until you wed?¡± she asked in astonishment, withdrawing her cup from her lips.


    ¡°Why should we?¡± the Foilunder replied.


    Mouse looked about disbelievingly at the tall gainly men littered about the hall. Even she knew too much of the world to believe that they could all be chaste. The Foilunder laughed.


    ¡°I see what you are thinking,¡± he said, no doubt marking the look of incredulity and shock Mouse wore. ¡°But do not misunderstand me,¡± he said, raising a hand. ¡°We have other ways of expressing our affection to one another.¡±


    Mouse felt her cheeks grow pink as she tried not to imagine what he might mean by this. The Foilunder brought his arm to the back of Mouse¡¯s chair and let it rest there, drawing a finger lightly through the ends of her hair.


    ¡°But to kiss someone,¡± he said, letting his eyes travel slowly from her hair to her face, moving his hand through her hair until his thumb brushed gently against her neck, ¡°that is a promise.¡± He shook his head. ¡°And it is not one we take lightly.¡±


    Mouse felt a kind of shiver run through her. She had wondered if the Foilunder would kiss her. She had wished for it, even. But she supposed it was just as well, for he had already cast some spell over her, and had this been sealed with a kiss, she may have never been able to recover her heart.


    Mouse found it difficult to sleep that night, as much from the excitement of merry making as anything. But eventually, she drifted off in the early hours of the morning, only to wake not long after.


    It was with a start that she rose from her bed to the sound of riders in the bailey, and she felt her heart leap into her throat, for it was only at that moment that she realized what a fool she had been.


    She had assumed that last night¡¯s banquet had been a gesture of friendship on behalf of the Empress, an apology, of sorts, for her taciturn behavior toward them in the wake of Bo¡¯s accident and a revival of good will. But she had been mistaken; it was not a reconciliation, it was a farewell.


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    Mouse hastened herself to dress, her heart seized with a sudden fear that she might miss the Foilunders before they departed. She hurried down the stairs as quickly as she could, nearly tripping down them in the process, and ran out of the castle, down the steps, and straight into the arms of Torben. Though his horse had been saddled, it was not yet laden, and it was with a great exhalation of joy and relief that he received Mouse into his embrace.


    Even before either could speak, Mouse could already feel the hot tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. She did not want him to go. There was still so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to ask, and so much she wanted to tell.


    She had always understood that the northerners had not come to stay, that these sweet summer days spent in Torben¡¯s company could not last forever. She knew that the time would come when they two would be forced to separate, but still, she had not expected it to come quite so soon.


    The Foilunder held her tightly, his cheek pressed against the crown of her head, and took up her hand, pressing it firmly to his heart. How was it possible, Mouse wondered, as she buried her face into his shoulder, that a world bright and beautiful enough to bring her such a man could just as easily tear him away?


    ¡°Jewel of Aros,¡± the Foilunder said without releasing her, ¡°huntress of my own heart, you cannot know the pain I feel at this moment.¡± But she could. She could, and she did. Mouse let her tears soak the Foilunder¡¯s doublet, her body shaking gently with sobs, and it was only once she had begun to regain herself and slackened her own grip on the man that he loosened his hold of her. He ran a hand through the dark hair that fell about her shoulders, the pain in his face telling the truth of his words.


    ¡°One day,¡± he said, looking down at Mouse, who found it difficult to meet his eye, ¡°when you tire of the warm southern weather, you will come for me.¡± His voice was low and even, but full of feeling. ¡°North you will ride on the back of noble Passavant,¡± he said, ¡°to still the ache within my heart.¡± His warm hand wrapped tightly around Mouse¡¯s own, his blue eyes soft and searching as he waited for her to meet his gaze.


    ¡°You know where to find me?¡± he asked her. Mouse nodded, her lip quivering as she spoke. ¡°The stone house by Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge,¡± she said, unable to keep her voice from trembling as she spoke. ¡°The one with the half-moon painted on the door.¡±


    ¡°That is where I will be,¡± Torben said, drawing his thumb gently across the back of her hand in a tender caress. ¡°And that is where I shall wait for you.¡±


    Mouse tried to steady her breath as she helped the Foilunder strap the remainder of his load to his flaxen mount, her hands shaking terribly all the while.


    Once the Dietric and the other Foilunders rode out, having bid their farewells to the Empress, her men, and all the rest at Silver Lake, she walked alongside Torben, who, having begged a few moments to himself and his lady, led his horse by the reins out of the bailey.


    Just as they went through the wall, Mouse suddenly stopped. She had no favor to give the Foilunder, no remembrance to carry with him. He had given her his bow and sixteen pieces for her tafl board besides, and it was only now that she realized, in dismay, that she had given him nothing.


    The Foilunder looked at her questioningly.


    ¡°I have nothing to give you,¡± she said sorrowfully, her countenance falling in shame. But Torben shook his head.


    ¡°I have already the lines of your face and the lilt of your voice,¡± he said, his blue eyes dancing in the sunlight as they so often did. ¡°What more could I ask for?¡±


    Mouse tried to smile, to let the Foilunder¡¯s generosity cheer her, but the lump in her throat would not allow it.


    The Foilunder studied her for another moment before reaching out a hand and gently tucking a finger beneath her chin, lifting it until her eyes met his. He stared at her in silence, his eyes traveling across her face, as if committing it to memory, and Mouse did the same.


    He was not just handsome, she thought to herself as she looked at the crease of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the whisps of hair that fell loose around his face, he was beautiful. And more than that, he was warm and kind and open, and he saw parts of Mouse that she didn¡¯t know were even there. He had given her so much to cherish, so much to believe in.


    Her eyes once again began to burn and her heart wrenched with aching, but she did not want to look away from him.


    It was in that very moment, when she did not think she could her legs could hold the weight of her grief any longer, when she felt the pain of their parting begin to grow so unbearable that she thought she might burst, that the Foilunder leaned down and, pulling Mouse¡¯s face gently toward his own, pressed his lips against hers.


    It was a promise, Mouse thought, a single tear rolling down her cheek as all the warmth of the morning sun seemed to pour into her at once. And even if she did not feel worthy of it, she was glad to accept.


    The broad-shouldered Foilunder stepped away from her, at last mounting his steed. The rest of his party already had already vanished into the fog that spread out from the lake, and it was with one last look of longing in Mouse¡¯s direction that he began to ride away.


    Mouse stood in the damp grass and watched him go.


    ¡°The jewel of Aros,¡± he began to sing as he rode slowly across the field, disappearing into the fog, ¡°looses her arrows upon the straw hearts of men¡­¡±


    Mouse waited, listening to the sound of his voice as it slowly faded until all that was left of him was a lingering sadness and the feeling of his lips upon hers.


    That night was not the first that Mouse had cried herself to sleep, and she knew it would not be the last. But it was the first time that her heart had been well and truly broken. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, the little tafl piece carved into the shape of an archer squeezed tightly in her palm. And as she drifted between sleep and wake, tears soaking her pillow and staining her face, she promised herself that she would never love anyone else again.

 Chapter 14: Homeward Bound

    The day after the Foilunders left, it rained. Everyone, save those on the wall, remained indoors, and a certain air of gloom seemed to linger about the castle. The guardsmen all roamed about, listless and displaced, as though no longer playing host to the northerners had suddenly reminded them that they themselves did not belong at Silver Lake.


    Ulrich was given leave to conclude his investigation and was commended for his efforts, though it was plain that there was no satisfaction to be had on any side of the thing.


    No matter how many times the villagers, the guardsmen, and all the rest at Silver Lake were questioned, it remained impossible to say whether the dead man¡¯s allegations of innocence were indeed sincere. Though any suggestion to the contrary had seemed absurd at first, there was now some genuine wonder as to the truth of his assertions. What if he was not who he claimed to be after all? And moreover, what if he had not been a lone actor but was part of some greater conspiratorial plot that in the end landed him at death¡¯s door?


    In the absence of any further information, all that was left was for the Empress to wait until her return to court so that she might excite the matter in front of her council.


    Mouse, for one, did not care about the dead man. She did not care whether it had been an accident or an assassination attempt, for she did not see what difference it could make; as long as there was an Empress, someone would always wish her dead, that was simply the way of things.


    Perhaps it was her own anger at the Empress that led her to feel this way, her own sense of injustice that one person should dictate the lives of so many, but she could not bring herself to feel any sympathy for the woman. She supposed that in a way she wanted to be angry with the Empress, to blame her for sending the Foilunders away. But deep down, she knew that no matter what had transpired over the past three weeks, no matter how the Empress might have chosen to react to the errant archer, their visit to Silver Lake was never meant to be anything more than temporary.


    Mouse¡¯s one small comfort in this time of melancholy was Elke. The girl was as eager and attentive as ever, and her easy manners and pleasant disposition were a salve to Mouse¡¯s sorrow. She had appeared at Mouse¡¯s door, somewhat unexpectedly, with a bucket of water hanging from each of her skinny arms, saying, ¡°I thought that my lady might be wanting a bath, seeing as what a dreary day it is.¡±


    Mouse felt in that moment overwhelmed with gratitude for the girl, for her gentle but lively spirit, for the distraction of her company. The girl filled her bath with sweet-smelling herbs and hummed cheerfully as she rubbed soap through Mouse¡¯s hair, and it was not long before Mouse thought she may even be equal to the prospect of conversing without tears springing into her eyes.


    Emboldened by a glass of the Foilunders¡¯ spirits, she had broached the subject to Ulrich of conveying Elke back with them to court. She dared not bring the matter to the Empress, who she was certain would decline her request, would she even deign to hear it, but found that she was equally disappointed by the head of the guard, whose reply amounted to asking whether she really thought it a kindness to the girl to expose her to the perils of the journey.


    Mouse had dropped her head in shame then, having failed to consider how dangerous it might be for so young a girl to travel all the way to Kriftel under the open sky on horseback. Though she knew that Ulrich likely meant no harm by his words, she was nonetheless injured at the implication of her own insensitivity and was forced to turn away, lest he see the tears she hurriedly wiped away.


    In light of all this, she now found herself eager to depart from Silver Lake. She wished for nothing more than to flee the place, to leave behind the ache she felt in her wounded heart every time she marked her Foilunder¡¯s absence. There was nothing but loneliness and sorrow for her there, which sprang anew each time she glanced into the courtyard only to find that he was not there, each time she trained her ears to a voice she knew could not be his.


    She knew that their departure waited only for the rain to end, and though she dreaded the idea of parting from the little maid girl who had grown nearly as dear to her as the Foilunder had, she was ready to leave the place that now seemed to bring her more pain than joy.


    As early as the next morning, the rain had stopped, and before the sun had even risen, the horses had been saddled and readied. Ulrich had mapped out a course very different from the one they had taken before; instead of going straight through the Vellows, they would ride east through Holzenwald and circle around to Kriftel from the south. It would be a full day of riding, he warned them, but if they rode with haste and made no unnecessary stops, they should still be able to arrive home before sunset.


    Mouse kneeled on the steps of the castle, holding Elke¡¯s small hands in her own. The girl stood bravely fighting back tears, and Mouse could see that she already knew she would not be going with them. She stroked the girl¡¯s dark hair, making every promise within her power to return as soon as she could, saying, ¡°This will not be the last time we meet, Elke of Ahnderland, but I hope that it will be our last goodbye.¡± And with that, she planted a kiss on the girl¡¯s forehead and went down the steps of the castle.


    She climbed upon Passavant¡¯s back, settling herself in the saddle, and as the party rode out across the green, she turned to take one last look at Silver Lake. One look, that was all she would allow herself.


    With a deep breath, she lifted her chin, grasping the reins firmly in her hands. She let her chest rise and fall with a steady breath, listening to the birdsong and the sound of the horses¡¯ hooves pushing through the muddy grass. Slowly, she allowed the tension in her shoulders begin to melt, her hands resting upon the nape of the grey gelding¡¯s neck, as she began to ride with something almost like ease.


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    She was not so afraid as she had been on the way there. After all, she had ridden through the arrows and across the open plains, and both now seemed so small to her.


    She had left her fear upon the field, where it lay dying among the mallows, and the only thing that frightened her now was the thought that were it not for Torben and the girl, Elke, she might have lived her whole life without knowing what it was to love.


    The ride back to Kriftel, though by a longer route, somehow did not feel so arduous as the ride there. Though they kept a brisk pace, eating from the saddle and stopping as little as nature would allow, the heat had been broken by the rain, and the journey was made all the more tolerable for it.


    Mouse was once again sore within the hour, but it was with a kind of quiet determination that she carried herself as uprightly as she could. At some point in the course of the journey, Ulrich drew his mount up alongside her, his prolonged presence there creating the distinct impression that there was something he wished to say. Mouse cast a sideways glance in his direction, wondering if he did not mean to make some sort of apology in regard to the girl from Silver Lake; yet, all the while he remained at her side, he did not utter a word, and so the two continued in silence, until at last Bo appeared, replacing the head of the guard next to Mouse.


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡± he asked with a surprising amount of composure for someone with a fractured collarbone bouncing along atop a horse. Though his arm had been wrapped in a sling, Mouse could not imagine that in such a circumstance it made much difference.


    She nodded and offered him a weak smile. If he could pretend not to be in pain, she could certainly make an effort. ¡°You seem a bit downcast, if you don¡¯t mind my saying so,¡± the dark-haired guardsman ventured, sunlight flickering across his freckled face as he passed beneath the trees.


    Mouse sighed and gave a shrug of her shoulders. She was downcast¡ªvery much so. But there was nothing to be done for it, and if she dared opened her lips, she thought it very likely she may begin to cry.


    ¡°Well, you needn¡¯t be sorry on my account,¡± Bo grinned at her, leaning over in his saddle. ¡°I¡¯ve been drunk since breakfast.¡±


    Despite herself, Mouse could not help but smile as she watched the guardsman trot off, a bit unsteady in the saddle now that she looked closely. She hoped that if he did happen to fall off and injure himself again, he would at least wait until they were in sight of the castle to do so.


    When at last the stone walls of Kriftel rose into view, the relief of all was made apparent through shouts of joy and exultation. Even Mouse, who often claimed to despise the place, thought she may well cry from happiness at knowing that their journey was nearly at an end. Her legs ached and her stomach grumbled, and there was dust and twigs rubbing her in places she could not reach in view of others.


    When they drew into the stables, she was glad to find that Dag was not there, and she was instead handed down by Jasper, the soft-spoken stable boy who always had a kind word for her.


    ¡°Well done,¡± he said as he took the reins from her. ¡°You¡¯ve come back in one piece, and on the very same horse you left on.¡±


    Mouse let out a laugh of relief, happy to at last be back on her own two feet.


    ¡°Passavant is a credit to you,¡± she said, brushing her shoulders and knocking the dust from her cloak. ¡°But I hope you will take no offense if I say it shall be a long while before I sit a horse again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you may say as much,¡± Jasper smiled, ¡°but I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if I see you down here again in a day or two when you begin to miss the old beast.¡± He gave the grey gelding¡¯s neck a few affectionate pats.


    But Mouse shook her head insistently. ¡°Anywhere I must go in the next half-year, I shall be glad to walk,¡± she said.


    She followed Jasper into the stables where he led Pasavant into a stall, and before she left, leaned over the gate to kiss the horse on the nose and give him the last bit of pear she¡¯d been saving in her pocket.


    ¡°Rest well, noble friend,¡± she said, rubbing a hand along his muzzle, surprised at the growing tenderness she felt for the creature as she looked into his large black eyes. ¡°You have certainly earned it.¡±


    Mouse walked out of the stables and around the corner toward the side of the building that faced the castle. But just as she did, she happened to catch sight of Johannes, who, it seemed, had heard of their return and come to meet the Empress. She drew back a few steps, uncertain whether she should go back the way she came and try to go around the other side, hoping to escape his notice, or simply wait where she was until he was gone.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t you cut a handsome figure in men¡¯s clothing,¡± he was crooning to the Empress, taking her hand and pulling her toward him. ¡°Will you find it absolutely disgusting if I tell you how much I¡¯ve missed you?¡±


    The Empress tugged playfully at his sleeve but did not resist him.


    ¡°For god¡¯s sake, Johannes,¡± she said, ¡°don¡¯t tell me what you can very well show me.¡±


    The nobleman wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her neck.


    ¡°You smell of horse shit,¡± he said, ¡°and I find it positively intoxicating.¡± The Empress threw her head back and laughed, her grey woolen cap falling to the ground as she did.


    Johannes turned and reached for the cap, scooping it up off the ground, but as he did, his eyes landed on Mouse. He froze then, his green eyes narrowing as they locked on hers, and a crease formed in his brow, as if for some reason, he was shocked, almost disbelieving to see her there. But before Mouse could so much as avert her gaze, he had returned to the Empress, placing the cap back crookedly onto her head and whispering into her ear as he led her by the waist toward the steps of the keep.


    It was strange, the way he had looked at her, Mouse thought as she made her way through the bailey, following the others toward the castle. But then again, she could see no reason why she should put much stock in how Johannes chose to look at her. All that mattered now was that she was home, and that soon enough, she would be tucked warmly in her bed.


    That night, Mouse had the same dream she had had before, the one where she was standing on Kingishers¡¯ Bridge, watching the powerful blue water of the Manau flow beneath her. At far end of the bridge stood the great stone house with a half-moon painted on the door. She watched the smoke rise from the chimney, listening for the voice as she slowly began to walk toward it.


    But just as it had been the last time, before she could reach the house, an arrow flew past her head, and she turned to see the dead man standing in the middle of the bridge, aiming his bow at her.


    ¡°Please, do not hurt me!¡± Mouse cried, her heart seized with terror. ¡°I am only a mouse!¡± She reached for her tail to show the man, to prove that she was nothing more than a tiny harmless creature who wanted nothing more than to scurry across the bridge. But once again, she could not seem to find it.


    ¡°A mouse in the field is nothing to me,¡± the man said this time, his eyes cold and mocking, ¡°but a mouse in the tower has too much power.¡±


    Mouse thought to flee the man, to run as fast as she could across the bridge and pray that she would not be struck. But before she could so much as turn, the man loosed his arrow, sending it straight between her eyes.

 Chapter 15: A Fools Drink

    Mouse should have liked very much to stay in bed the next two days entirely, but as it happened, she was called upon the very next morning to join the Empress and the rest of the ladies in breaking her fast.


    Though it was with a profound sense of anguish that she climbed from her feathers, the wear of her journey having set in with full fury over the night, she found that she was able to carry out her morning preparations with little hindrance, and so long as she was not asked to sit, stand, or walk, she thought she might manage with little discomfort.


    Mouse entered the breakfast room, the morning light pouring in through the tall windows to the east, and sat stiffly down to table. Her anguish now began anew, her backside protesting ardently against the hardness of the thinly padded chair, and though her embarrassment nearly prevented it, she had no course but to relent and call for another cushion to put beneath her.


    The other ladies gathered around the table continued to speak in hushed tones, casting glances now and again in Mouse¡¯s direction. She was certain that they would later press her to discover the details of where she had been these last three or more weeks, but they would have to wait until the Empress was not in attendance.


    Mouse did not begrudge them this, for after all, it was a lady¡¯s duty to keep abreast of all the happenings of court, to know who went where and when and with whom. But under the circumstances, she did not think there was much she could say about their stay at Silver Lake that would be permitted to circulate.


    She therefore entertained herself by formulating possible excuses for why she had been missed, including that she had fallen down an enchanted well and was forced to answer a series of increasingly difficult riddles in order to be lifted out, that she had become lost in the Zauberwald and imprisoned by an old crone before eventually escaping on the back of a centaur, and her personal favorite, that an enchantress disguised as an old woman had cast a spell upon her that turned her into an actual mouse, and she had really been here all along, only no one had recognized her because they were too busy eating sweet breads and cakes and spreading rumors about one another.


    But Mouse was suddenly stirred from such reveries by a serving girl who appeared at her side holding a tray that bore a single cup. It was full of some green herby liquid that looked nearly as repugnant as it smelled.


    Mouse felt the color rise in her cheeks as she took the cup from the girl, the other ladies¡¯ eyes upon her as they whispered behind their sleeves. Her eyes went to Empress, who, though pretending not to watch, was no doubt congratulating herself on another cruel and needless show of humiliation.


    Mouse knew what the drink was, and she knew what it was for. But she also knew that one did not become pregnant from a single kiss like the one she had shared with Torben.


    It had been given to her, she was certain, not for any practical purpose, except to chasten her, to remind her that whether she was at Silver Lake or Kriftel or any other place on earth, she did not belong to herself, she belonged to the Empress.


    It was a fool¡¯s drink, Mouse thought as she held the cup in her hands, for she had been a fool to think that she should be allowed any degree of happiness without being made to suffer for it later.


    She tipped the cup and swallowed the drink all at once, returning the empty vessel to the tray from which it had been taken, eager to rid herself of the attention the act had garnered.


    But Mouse¡¯s punishment, mortifying as it had been, was not the worst that might be dealt.


    ¡°Lady Agatha, I am so sorry,¡± the Empress said suddenly, setting down her own cup and pressing a napkin to her lips. ¡°I hope it has not upset you to see Mouse take the drink. It is for her own good, and I assure you that you shall not be made to do the same.¡±


    The flaxen-hair girl looked at the Empress in confusion.


    ¡°Certainly not, Your Majesty,¡± she said, eager to make herself agreeable, even if she did not understand.


    ¡°Oh, good,¡± the Empress smiled in feign relief. ¡°I was worried that in your present state, such a thing may offend your sensibilities.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty, I am not at all offended,¡± the girl replied.


    ¡°Nonetheless,¡± said the Empress with a cordiality so contrived, Mouse wondered Lady Agatha herself could not see the trap being laid for her, ¡°I should like to offer my apologies,¡± she lifted her cup, ¡°and my felicitations.¡± She smiled at the dumbfounded girl. ¡°Let us all drink to Lady Agatha¡¯s great happiness,¡± she pronounced.


    Mouse could feel her stomach begin to turn. It was not just the drink she had been forced to swallow, though it certainly did not help, but she recognized the glimmering malice in the Empress¡¯s eyes and began to fear for poor Lady Agatha.


    The girl blushed, and if she had been clever, Mouse thought, she would have kept her lips closed and said nothing. But as it was, the girl was not very clever.


    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty,¡± Lady Agatha said. ¡°I am certain that I am very happy. But I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Of course you are,¡± interrupted the Empress brightly, taking up a sausage from her plate and placing it between her teeth. ¡°To be with child is the greatest blessing one could hope for.¡±


    All the eyes in the room turned to Lady Agatha as the color drained from her face.


    ¡°Oh, no!¡± the girl stammered, ¡°Your Majesty, I am most certainly not¡ªthat is, I cannot¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do not be silly,¡± the Empress smiled, swallowing. ¡°You cannot hide your delicate condition.¡±


    ¡°No, Your Majesty,¡± the poor girl protested fervently, looking about as if someone should at any moment come to her rescue. ¡°I cannot¡ªI swear, I never even¡ª¡±


    The Empress delicately replaced her napkin upon the table and furrowed her brow.


    ¡°Can you be certain?¡± she said, with a tilt of her head. ¡°For I am certain that I have it from more than one person that Lord Johannes was seen leaving your chambers on several occasions while I was away. And while Lady Katla is not here to remind us, we all know what a knave he is.¡±


    The room had fallen so silent that the sound of a crumb falling might have been heard. The smile smoothed across the Empress¡¯s lips could not disguise the contempt glistening in her dark eyes as she looked at poor Lady Agatha.


    The girl now looked contritely down into her lap, tears falling silently from her eyes.


    ¡°Do not cry, dear,¡± said the Empress. ¡°We shall find you a suitable husband who I¡¯m sure will be willing to overlook the child¡¯s parentage. Perhaps Lord Hildimar or some nice Chatti man.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± cried Lady Agatha, lifting her eyes to the Empress in desperation. ¡°That is, please no, Your Majesty. It is not necessary, I promise, I¡ª¡± The girls lip quivered as the tears began anew.


    ¡°Oh, dear,¡± sighed the Empress in false contrition after an uncomfortable period of silence. ¡°Perhaps it is my mistake. It is only that, well,¡± she sighed, ¡°you are looking rather round-faced these days.¡± She smiled softy at Lady Agatha. ¡°But I suppose that too many sweet breads can do that to a lady, can¡¯t they?¡±


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    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty,¡± the girl said, her voice trembling as wiped the tears from her face with her palms. She tried to laugh, but found little success.


    ¡°Now then,¡± said the Empress, taking up another sausage and gesturing to Lady Agatha with it, ¡°you will simply have to be more careful of what you put in that mouth of yours, won¡¯t you?¡±


    The Empress sat in a blue silk embroidered chair, a parchment covered front and back in elegant script held in one hand while the other held a small white cup that smelled of jasmine and honey. The tassels that hung along the bottom of the chair swayed gently as Mouse brushed by them, stepping around to take up another pin from the small silver tray that sat on the table.


    The Empress has dressed simply that morning, too simply, and she would now have to be done properly if she were to sit Council. This meant that Mouse, as usual, found herself being forced to put aside the feelings of animosity and disgust which the Empress had excited in her and see to a duty that would not bend to personal feeling or preference.


    A Seneschal sat idly in the corner of the room, satisfied, it seemed, to do little more than fetch the remainder of his own breakfast from between his teeth, while a boy with tight blond curls and the brave if premature makings of a mustache waited by the door.


    The boy Mouse recognized as one of Johannes¡¯ yeoman, and he had come, she did not doubt, to plead his master¡¯s case in regard to the many claims against him in regard to Lady Agatha. But the Empress, her ire now incited, was more than content to ignore the boy¡¯s presence, and it was a wonder he had not already been dismissed.


    Mouse could tell from even the briefest of glances that the handwriting upon the sheet that the Empress held was that of Lord Hildimar. Though he had been in Council some three weeks ago, just before the party left for Silver Lake, she wondered if he had not gone east again. She thought of the garish collar and even more garish fringe he had donned at the last meeting and wondered if Lady Agatha knew how fortunate she was to escape him.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the yeoman now ventured bravely, though he had not been called upon to speak. ¡°I wonder if I may be so bold as to¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, you may not,¡± the Empress said, silencing the boy without so much as looking up.


    Mouse reached for a pin, placing two between her lips before taking up a third. The Empress, she reflected, had looked much younger at Silver Lake, her dark hair left to spill over her shoulders as it had often been. The gowns she had donned were of a simpler thread than those she wore at court, and she had looked much more the girl of nineteen that she was than she now did, with her hair drawn away from her face and her dark eyes glowering at the parchment held in front of her.


    The Empress turned the letter in her hand over and sighed, tossing it atop the rest without finishing it and setting down her cup to fish out another. Her unexpected movement knocked the pin from Mouse¡¯s hand, who knelt down quietly to retrieve it, wincing in agony against the soreness of her legs as she did. She did not know how the Empress could bear such exhaustive riding without showing any signs of weariness. She rose slowly, using the arm of the chair to help herself, and that was when she noticed something unusual, something which she had not noticed before.


    Peaking out from beneath the stack of letters that lay strewn across the table was the gilded handle of a knife. Though she could not make out the ornamentation of it, concealed as it was beneath the pile of parchment, she knew at once that it could not belong to the Empress, for all of her blades were decked with any number of jewels, most of them bearing the mallow of Toth. Nonetheless, the blade was familiar to her, even if she could not say where she had seen it before.


    The next letter was in a hand that Mouse could not immediately recognize, but the Empress gave the sender away soon enough.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she said with an air of amusement, her expression brightening slightly as her eyes flicked up to the Seneschal, ¡°Batton¡¯s boy is looking for a wife. It is a shame I have already promised Lady Agatha to Lord Hildimar.¡± She smiled wickedly, throwing the letter away. "I think she would have rather like being the wife of a glorified goat herd."


    The Seneschal laughed.


    "Batton''s boy, you say? I didn''t think him the marrying type."


    "We are all the marrying type," the Empress said, "sooner or later." She cast the parchment aside. "Honestly," she murmured as she took up another sheet, ¡°has no one anything better to do than sit around writing letters all day?¡± She turned the sheet over, examining it to see how long the letter might go on.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said the Seneschal, retrieving a finger from the back of his mouth and examining the findings of his nail, ¡°some people have too much time on their hands entirely.¡±


    Mouse cast a glance at the man sat languidly in the corner, wondering if he could fail to see the irony of his own statement.


    ¡°I should nearly envy such a life,¡± the Empress sighed, ¡°were it not for the putrid stench of the country and the ever-present specter of one¡¯s own insignificance.¡±


    The country. That was where Mouse had seen the blade before, she suddenly realized, her eyes darting to the handle once again. Only then, it had been fixed to the Dietric¡¯s hip.


    She crossed to the table and took up a string of pearls to fix to the back of the Empress''s crown, trying to get a better look at the blade as she did.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the yeoman said from his post by the door, ¡°on behalf of my Lord, I simply wish to¡ª¡±


    "Oh, now this is rich indeed," the Empress said, cutting the boy off, "the ''heir of Vejle,''" she raised her eyebrows meaningfully at the Seneschal, "would like to request an audience."


    "Would he then?" the Seneschal laughed, poking a fingernail between his two front teeth. "I did not know Vejle had an heir."


    "Nor did I," the Empress laughed, dropping the letter into her lap.


    Mouse draped the pearls carefully against the back of the Empress¡¯s hair, wondering, as she did so, if the blade had been given to her by the Dietric as some kind of gift, a token of friendship perhaps¡ªor perhaps something more. She had not been listening to the conversation passing around her, and so was with great surprise that she now found herself being addressed.


    ¡°Tell me, little Mouse,¡± the Empress said, ¡°what did you think of our northern guests?¡±


    Mouse felt a lump begin to form in her throat. She had been staring at the blade, hadn''t she? She had not meant to, but once she had seen it, she could think of little else. The Empress must have noticed her looking at the thing and now sought to out her.


    ¡°They seemed to be good men, Your Majesty,¡± Mouse said, measuring her answer carefully as she crossed to the table to take up another string of pearls, ¡°men who love their Dietric, men of duty and honor.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± the Empress replied with a smile as she watched Mouse in the glass. ¡°I wonder if you could mean all of them, or one in particular?¡± Mouse felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as she lowered her eyes and began to drape the second strand of pearls beneath the first. She already knew that the Empress had not failed to notice the attachment she had formed to Torben, but she did not like to be reminded of the fact, especially after the humiliation she had been forced to endure at breakfast.


    ¡°That reminds me,¡± the Empress said suddenly, a gleam of mischief in her dark eyes, ¡°what was the name of that guardsman, the one who nearly got himself killed with a wooden stick?¡±


    ¡°Bo, Your Majesty?¡± Mouse said, fixing the second strand of pearls into to place.


    ¡°Yes, Bo!¡± the Empress said excitedly. ¡°He¡¯s a handsome creature, now isn¡¯t he?¡± Mouse did not know what to say. If truth were told, she did not think that Bo was particularly handsome, but with his dark curls, clear grey eyes, and slender build, she did not see why someone else should not think so.


    "What''s this about a guardsman nearly being killed?" the Seneschal said, flicking something from his fingers. But the Empress did not answer him.


    ¡°It is a pity that he will not be able to fulfill his duties as guard for the while,¡± she continued, her eyes traveling from Mouse to the yeoman by the door, ¡°but I am certain we shall find some other employment for him, what with Johannes no longer being of use to me." Her smile as she watched the yeoman¡¯s growing discomfort was as that of a cat with a warm bowl of cream, an though Mouse felt sorry for the boy, she did not feel the least bit of sympathy for Johannes.


    "Your Majesty, Lord Johannes would like to extend his most¡ª"


    ¡°Actually,¡± the Empress interrupted, turning in her chair to face the boy, ¡°you¡¯re not such a terrible looking fellow yourself.¡±


    The yeoman¡¯s face instantly went bright red.


    ¡°How old are you, boy?¡± the Empress asked.


    ¡°Nine¡ªnineteen,¡± the yeoman stammered, ¡°Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Nineteen?¡± the Empress smiled. ¡°That is a fine age.¡±


    ¡°Y¡ªYes, Your Majesty,¡± the boy managed anxiously.


    Mouse straightened the strands of pearls hanging from the back of the Empress''s crown and went to the table to take up a thick silver necklace set with rubies to fasten about her neck.


    "No, the other one," the Empress said to Mouse, indicating a wooden box that sat on the corner of table, "just there." Mouse returned the necklace the table and took up the box, rubbing a thumb against the brass latch as she stared down at it.


    ¡°Do you enjoy your life here at court?¡± she heard the Empress ask the yeoman, though her own attention remained on the box in her hands, the polished wood smooth and supple.


    ¡°Y¡ªYes, Your Majesty,¡± the boy replied. "Very much."


    Mouse traced a finger across the ivy engraved into the lid. It was the same box, she realized, or at least very nearly the same, as the one that sat nestled beneath her mattress, the one Ludger had given her. She swallowed down the strange feeling in her throat, lifting her eyes to look at the Empress in the glass.


    ¡°Well then," the Empress smiled at the yeoman, her dark eyes glistening, "I suggest that you get the hell out of my chambers if you want to live to see twenty.¡±

 Chapter 16: If Looks Could Kill

    Mouse sat in the back of the Council chamber, staring at the Empress as hard as she could. She had heard once that some people were born with unnatural powers that gave them the ability to make terrible things happen to those who crossed them with little more than a look. She now sought to discover whether she herself might be one of these chosen few, hoping that if she stared at the Empress long enough, her hair might suddenly burst into flames, or better still, her eyes might fall from her head and roll away across the chamber floor.


    But alas, Mouse was doomed to be disappointed, for the Empress remained were she sat in her high-backed chair at the head of the Council table as unsinged and full of eyes as ever.


    The last two Council meetings had been canceled, with the Empress claiming in turn that she was too tired or too busy to attend. But Mouse wondered if her sudden absence might have more to do with a certain grey-eyed guardsman and a desire to be seen in his company by a jilted favorite.


    Mouse had already been reminded of what an ill-spirited, insufferable person the Empress could be, and now found she was being reminded of how insufferable Council meetings could be.


    Lords Toffrey and Cook had been at odds with one another for the better part of an hour over whether a Caraspin silver coin was worth more or less than a Caldiffan silver. It was not until they had all but torn the hair from one another¡¯s beards that the matter was finally settled by Ludger, who informed them that ever since the Teppish trade edict of some fifty years ago, the two were worth exactly the same.


    The old man might have said something sooner, thought Mouse, shifting uncomfortably in her wooden chair, still sore as she was from the ride three days prior, but she knew that he took some strange satisfaction in watching the High Councilors fight among each other until they had made complete and utter fools of themselves.


    ¡°An empire of imbeciles,¡± he muttered when the conversation had resumed, at last turning elsewhere.


    ¡°An initial draft of the document is already well underway, Your Majesty,¡± Lord Eadic was now heard saying importantly, ¡°and I must say that I think it to be going rather well.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the Empress murmured in reply. But she was not looking at Lord Eadic any more than she could be said to be listening to him. She had taken her eyes from the pink glass window where they had rested for the majority of the Council session and fixed them now upon the pumice chalice in her hand. Her fingertips drummed irregularly against the sides of the cup as she stared down at it in some quiet contemplation known only to herself.


    Mouse knew that she could not be the only one to notice this strange behavior; in fact, as she looked at the High Councilors who sat gathered around the table, she noticed that they were all looking about at one another in concern.


    However, no one spoke, that is until Lord Eadic cleared his throat. ¡°However,¡± he began rather loudly, clearly hoping to rouse the Empress, ¡°we will still require that Your Majesty¡ª¡±


    ¡°How many men are posted on the Chatti borders?¡± the Empress interrupted suddenly, looking up at Lord Eadic as though he might somehow know the answer. The hook-nosed Councilor blinked at her in confusion.


    ¡°I do not know, Your Majesty,¡± he replied.


    The Empress¡¯s eyes moved to Lord Rambert.


    ¡°How many men?¡± she asked.


    The High Marshal looked nearly as lost for words as Lord Eadic, blustering in confusion for a moment before responding, ¡°In all, Your Majesty?¡±


    ¡°How many men on the northern borders?¡± the Empress inquired.


    ¡°Six thousand, Your Majesty,¡± Lord Rambert replied. ¡°Ten thousand in the Chatti lands in all, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Six thousand on the northern borders?¡± the Empress echoed in surprise. ¡°That seems a great many.¡±


    Lord Rambert looked at the other councilors, as if they might understand better than he why the Empress would inquire into such a thing.


    ¡°It is a considerable amount,¡± he conceded when no one came to his aid, ¡°but it is necessary, given their position.¡±


    Mouse clutched her cushion, sensing the strange air that was beginning to settle over the Council. She did not like the questions the Empress was now asking any more than any of the councilors seemed to. She swallowed, her throat suddenly beginning to feel as her thoughts returned to the conversation she had overheard in the great hall that first night at Silver Lake, the conversation between the Empress and the Dietric in regard to the Chatti.


    The Empress nodded slowly at Lord Rambert, contemplating his answer.


    ¡°And these are Arosian men,¡± she asked, ¡°not Chatti?¡±


    ¡°Arosian indeed,¡± Lord Rambert replied stoutly, his thick grey mustache quivering with pride. ¡°The Chatti do not have six thousand fighting men in their entire army,¡± he snorted, thrusting an elbow into Lord Eadic¡¯s side and raising a laughing eyebrow at him.


    ¡°I wonder that we can spare so many,¡± the Empress said, leaning back as she fixed Lord Rambert squarely in her gaze. ¡°We have our own borders to worry about, do we not?¡±


    Lord Rambert opened his mouth as if to answer before seeming to think better of it and falling silent for a few moments.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the High Marshal began at last, pronouncing each word carefully, ¡°without our men, the Chatti cannot hope to defend themselves against any foreign threat that may move against them.¡±


    He was right, thought Mouse. Without the Arosian army, the Chatti would be helpless. And that was exactly what the Dietric wanted.


    ¡°Do not speak to me as if I am a child, Lord Rambert,¡± the Empress spat back at the High Marshal. ¡°I understand the plight of the Chatti better than anyone in this room.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Your Majesty,¡± Lord Rambert blustered, ¡°I only¡ª¡±


    ¡°If the Chatti would like our continued support,¡± the Empress said, cutting him off, ¡°perhaps they should send a delegation to represent their interests.¡±


    The room was quiet as the Empress looked from one Councilor to the next, daring them to speak. ¡°But as it is,¡± she continued, ¡°they have no presence at court.¡± She folded her hands in her lap. ¡°How can I be expected to take them seriously?¡±


    ¡°I will speak with Emissary Badulf and see that they send a delegation at once, Your Majesty,¡± Lord Rambert answered.


    ¡°Good,¡± replied the Empress, turning to the Marshal. ¡°They have one week before I take every man from their borders and send them south.¡±


    ¡°She cannot mean it,¡± Mouse said from her seat in the window, clutching the cushion to her chest as she looked down at the empty archery range below.


    ¡°Indeed, she can,¡± replied Ludger. ¡°She is the Empress of the Arosian Empire, and she can do as she pleases.¡±


    Mouse turned to look at the old man, furrowing her brow.


    ¡°She would still need a majority from the Council, and they would never allow such madness.¡±


    ¡°Oh, wouldn¡¯t they?¡± Ludger replied, raising a bushy white brow at her. ¡°Then perhaps they do not care to keep their seats on the Council.¡±


    Mouse tried to turn it all over in her mind.


    ¡°If she takes her men from the borders,¡± she began.


    ¡°It would be very bad for the Chatti indeed,¡± finished Ludger. ¡°Let us pray it does not come to that.¡±


    Mouse dropped the cushion to her lap and looked down at it.


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    ¡°Now,¡± said the old man, clearing his throat. ¡°Is there something you wish to tell me? Something about your recent travels?¡±


    Mouse felt the color begin to rise in her cheeks. There was much that had happened during her travels, much that she should probably tell Ludger, but equally as much that she would rather not.


    ¡°Where shall I begin?¡± she said, tracing a finger along the silver embroidery of the cushion. The cushion she held was not really a cushion¡ªthat is, its contents were something more than that of a regular cushion. For inside, Mouse had sewn the wooden box that Ludger had given her. She had understood, after seeing such a box on the Empress¡¯s table, why Ludger had told her to keep in hidden; if she was seen with it, it was certain to be taken from her.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we start with the man who tried to kill you,¡± Ludger said.


    Mouse¡¯s eyes suddenly lifted to meet the old man¡¯s.


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± she asked in bewilderment, too stunned by the question to understand it.


    ¡°Tell me about the man who shot an arrow at your head,¡± the old man said. ¡°Jens, I believe he was called.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡± Mouse shook her head. ¡°He wasn¡¯t trying to kill me,¡± she said. ¡°It was just that, well¡ª¡± She searched her mind for the words to describe what had happened that day out on the field but could not seem to find them.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Ludger, lacing his hands about the bulge of his stomach, his grey eyes watching Mouse. ¡°Tell me about the man who loosed an arrow that narrowly missed killing you, only to loose two more when that one failed.¡±


    Mouse let the words enter her mind and begin to uncurl themselves, feeling a strange, sick sort of feeling begin to churn inside of her as she did. She had not considered that the dead man¡¯s arrow might have been meant for her. She could not understand why it should be. Who was she that somebody might want her dead? She sat quietly for a moment, turning over this disturbing new idea.


    ¡°How do you know about that?¡± she asked at last.


    ¡°It is my business to know these sorts of things,¡± the old man shrugged.


    Mouse laughed, hoping to relieve some of the tension welling inside of her.


    ¡°I thought you were the Master of Tomes,¡± she said lightly. But the old man did not share in her levity.


    ¡°And I thought you were brave enough to face the truth,¡± he said gravely.


    Mouse knit her brow together as she looked into the piercing grey eyes that watched her.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked, her fingers pulling unconsciously at the loose threads of the cushion.


    The old man sighed heavily.


    ¡°Let us try another subject,¡± he said, shifting his weight from one side to the other in his padded chair behind the large acacia desk. ¡°Tell me about the Foilunders. Why did they wish to meet with the Empress?¡±


    Mouse averted her eyes, afraid that if she continued to look at the old man, he would be able to see through her.


    ¡°I cannot say for certain,¡± she said, though it was by most accounts a lie.


    The old man grunted.


    ¡°You cannot or you will not?¡± he snorted. Mouse looked down at the cushion.


    Perhaps it was because she did not want to believe that the Foilunders or the Empress, for that matter, were capable of it, or perhaps it was because she was not, in fact, brave enough to face the truth, but she did not want to repeat what she had heard.


    ¡°If you cannot tell me the Foilunders¡¯ intentions, then at least tell me the Empress¡¯s,¡± the old man said impatiently.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± Mouse said quietly, pulling a thread from the cushion and dropping it to the floor, watching as it floated slowly down from the window.


    ¡°What do you mean, you do not know?¡± Ludger demanded, his voice growing exasperated.


    Mouse did not speak.


    ¡°You are the Empress¡¯s lady-in-waiting, are you not?¡± the old man said. ¡°And yet it seems that it is more often I who is explaining the motives and interests of the Empress to you rather than the other way around.¡±


    Mouse swallowed, hoping that the shame she felt at being scolded by the old man would bury itself somewhere deep inside her with the rest of her many humiliations.


    ¡°You are not a child any longer, Maudeleine,¡± Ludger said, his voice hard and unrelenting as he spoke. ¡°You have duties, responsibilities.¡±


    I know, Mouse wanted to say, that is all I have, that is all I am allowed to have. But instead, she remained silent.


    ¡°A lady-in-waiting is not just some glorified servant who spends all day writing letters and falling asleep during council meetings,¡± the old man continued to chide. ¡°A true lady-in-waiting is a confidant, an advisor, a friend. You could have the Empress¡¯s trust, if you chose it. You might even bend her ear to reason from time to time.¡±


    Mouse shook her head, fighting back the tears that were beginning to sting at the backs of her eyes.


    ¡°She would never listen to me,¡± she murmured without looking up. ¡°She hates me.¡±


    ¡°Have you not considered,¡± said the old man, ¡°that perhaps it is not that she hates you, but that she is disappointed in you?¡±


    Mouse looked up into the old man¡¯s hard grey eyes, as the tears began to inch closer and closer to her eyelids. The old man looked back at her, unmoved.


    ¡°Do you know why she calls you ¡®Mouse?¡¯¡± he asked.


    Mouse felt her lips begin to tremble as a tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek.


    ¡°Because she thinks so little of me,¡± she said softly, bitterly.


    ¡°Because you have made yourself small,¡± the old man said.


    Mouse let the words hit her like the blow of a hammer, as more tears began to spill from her eyes and roll down her cheeks.


    She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had spent her life being bullied and tormented and humiliated, and now the old man was telling her it was her own fault. But what was worse, she realized in mortification, was that there may be some truth in his words.


    ¡°You could be so much more than what you are,¡± the old man shook his head, ¡°but you are too occupied with your own perceived misfortunes, too busy moping about and feeling sorry for yourself to instead rise to the task before you.¡±


    Mouse did not think she could speak, even if she had wanted to. The lump in her throat was too big to swallow and the cruelty of the old man¡¯s words was too much for her to bear. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do that would lessen the weight of them.


    She took the cushion in her arms, and lowered herself clumsily from the window, pushing past the chair at the desk and hurrying toward the door. She wrenched it open, half expecting old man to try and stop her, but he did not.


    ¡°How now, Mouse? Where are you off to in such a hurry?¡± It was Johannes. How was it, Mouse wondered, that the last person on earth she should wish to see might be the only one passing through the hall at that very moment?


    She kept walking, her cheeks stained with dried tears, hoping that if she ignored the smarmy nobleman, he would simply go away. But instead, he continued alongside her, determined to keep her pace.


    ¡°Is it true, what I hear, that you bedded some foreigner?¡± he asked, a crooked grin upon his lips as he spoke. ¡°A monster of a thing from what I heard,¡± he said. ¡°I cannot imagine it to be a pleasant experience for a little creature like yourself.¡±


    Mouse could feel the heat burning in her cheeks as she gritted her teeth. The only monster, she wanted to say to the nobleman, is you. But instead, she held her tongue, hoping that she would be rewarded for her self-restraint by his imminent departure.


    But Johannes would not be so easily dissuaded.


    ¡°Really,¡± he Johannes, tugging at the skirt of her gown, ¡°you needn¡¯t go to such lengths. I¡¯ve been telling you for years that I am at your disposal whenever you should require me.¡±


    Mouse drew a deep breath, biting down hard on her lip to keep her silence. Had she not already endured enough from both the Empress and the old man?


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Johannes continued, ¡°not to worry. If the drink doesn¡¯t take, I¡¯m sure the Empress will find you someone you can pass off as the father.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s fingers dugs into the cushion she held fast to, wondering how much longer she could listen to the inciting remarks of the nobleman without walloping him across the cheek.


    Johannes now turned to face her, walking backward down the hallway as he did.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, frowning upon seeing her face, ¡°you¡¯re upset. I didn¡¯t realize.¡± He grabbed her arm, stopping her in place. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± he said with a rakish grin, ¡°why don¡¯t you come to my chambers, and you can tell me all about it.¡±


    Mouse wrenched her arm away from his grasp.


    ¡°I warn you, Johannes,¡± she said in a voice thick with anger, ¡°I am in no mood¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah, but you see, the thing is, I am,¡± he said, grabbing her arm once again and pulling her toward him.


    ¡°What¡¯s the trouble, Johannes?¡± a voice suddenly came from behind. Johannes dropped Mouse¡¯s arm as she turned to see Ulrich approaching from the eastern wing.


    ¡°I did not see you there,¡± the nobleman smiled in feign cordiality. ¡°Captain, is it?¡±


    Ulrich said nothing, merely looking between Johannes and Mouse.


    ¡°I heard about your promotion,¡± the nobleman continued, ¡°but perhaps I should remind you, I am still a Lord, and you must therefore address me accordingly.¡±


    Ulrich looked at Johannes with an expression so taciturn it nearly made Mouse shiver.


    ¡°What¡¯s the trouble, Lord Johannes?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nothing as far as I can tell,¡± the nobleman shrugged. ¡°Mouse was just walking me to my rooms,¡± he said. ¡°She promised to tuck me in, accommodating little thing that she is.¡±


    ¡°Is that right?¡± Ulrich asked, though it sounded more a challenge than a question.


    The smile on Johannes¡¯ face turned to a sneer.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s a real shame you¡¯ll be stuck in the service forever,¡± he said to the guardsman. ¡°With a face as beautiful as yours, I¡¯m sure you¡¯d make some Lord very happy.¡±


    But Ulrich did not rise to the nobleman¡¯s provocation.


    ¡°Actually,¡± Johannes said, stepping back to look between Mouse and the guardsman, ¡°I think we may have found the perfect father for your bastard child, Mouse. I mean, think of it: he¡¯s got everything a lady could possibly want¡ªapart from gold, lands, or a title, that is.¡±


    Mouse looked at the guardsman, wondering how his countenance could remain so stoic when she could feel her own mounting anger toward the repugnant nobleman take hold of her every feature.


    ¡°And best of all,¡± Johannes jeered, ¡°he¡¯ll never have the nerve to touch you, because you¡¯re a Toth, and he¡¯s nothing more than an up-jumped little¡ª"


    But whatever Johannes was about to say, no one would ever know, because it was at that precise moment that Mouse brought the cushion across his face with a crack.


    The nobleman staggered back a step, holding his reddening jaw as he looked at Mouse in stunned silence. The filling of the cushion had been enough to soften the blow, but not enough to dampen the impact of the hard wooden box entirely.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± Johannes shouted when he had at last regained the ability to speak. ¡°That hurt, Mouse!¡± he cried. ¡°Did you mean it to?¡±


    Mouse looked at him, not feeling the least bit sorry for what she had done.


    ¡°Indeed, I did,¡± she said. ¡°Be glad that I could not strike stronger, for I certainly would have.¡±


    The nobleman¡¯s expression was one of pure shock; the guardsman¡¯s less so.


    ¡°And now,¡± said Mouse, ¡°if you will excuse me.¡± She bowed. ¡°Johannes, Captain.¡±


    And on she continued down the hallway to her chambers, the most violent and vindicated of cushions still held in her arm, daring anyone to follow.

 Chapter 17: A Mouse No More

    Mouse stood in front of the tall wooden door that led to Ludger¡¯s offices, rehearsing what she might say to him when she at last gathered the courage to knock and was called upon to enter. Though she had come to make herself contrite, she did not mean to do so absolutely, for she could not, in conscience of her own human substance, prostrate herself before someone who had made so little an endeavor at civility in delivering his painful blows upon her character.


    She had initially sought to draw up a catalogue detailing her own grievances against the man and the ways in which she had felt cheated by her indictment, but this had been discarded when she realized it may only serve to strengthen his arguments against her. She did not wish to be seen as petty in her return, but she could not allow that his assessment of her had been entirely fair.


    Mouse had spent the better part of her nineteen years in this world doing little apart from what she was bade. When other children had gone out to play, she had remained indoors, reading, writing, rehearsing, and when other young ladies had been allowed to debut elegantly into a world of courtly diversions, she had been forced into stuffy council chambers and made to abstain from anything that might abate some of the tediousness of her existence.


    It was not that she wanted to be like the other ladies of the court; in fact, she decidedly did not. But she did envy whatever degree of freedom they had been allowed to retain, which had been torn from her at so tender an age that, at times, she felt as though she could hardly recall what it was to make a decision for herself.


    The old man had invested much of his own time in her, administering logic and instructing her mind, teaching her not only to read and recite but to interpret and criticize. Mouse knew that, and she also knew that he likely felt as though he had, as of yet, received little return on his investment.


    However, she could not accede that it was somehow selfish or wrong of her to bleed when cut, to cry when lost, to wish, from time to time, for a life that was her own.


    After all, it was not as though Mouse believed herself to be above censure; she knew that her failings were many. But Ludger had spoken of her shortcomings as though they were the result of laziness and want of trying. It was as if he was blind to everything she had suffered in attempting to do that which was expected, be that which was expected, as if every endeavor to make herself amenable to the desires of the Empress and immune to the spite of her peers, to distinguish herself among the other ladies of the court through tireless improvement when all she really wanted was to sit on a step somewhere and feel the sun on her face, had all been for naught.


    She could apologize for disappointing him, for disappointing the Empress, but she could not apologize for those efforts which she had made in earnest.


    Silver Lake had been her awakening. There, she had been reminded that there was more to life than the Arosian court, and that there was more to Mouse herself than her place within it.


    She thought of the little tafl piece, the one carved into the shape of an archer that stood on the table beside her bed, and wished that she had brought it with her, to give her strength. It helped her to remember that not everyone saw her the way that Ludger did, as a petulant and ungrateful child, to know that someone had been able to see her for who she was rather than who she ought to be, and had seen in her someone worth cherishing.


    But she did not wish to think of the Foilunder now, for she feared that if she did, that cold wave of resentment would return¡ªtoward Ludger, toward the Empress, toward everyone who she felt had robbed her of the life she might have lived with him.


    No, she must not allow emotion to overwhelm her. She needed to meet the old man with a clear head, neither flagellated nor angry, if she wished to make herself heard.


    She drew a deep breath, tucking the wooden box that she had hastily wrapped in a piece of blue linen under her arm. Though the cushion had been a more elegant solution, after wielding it against the pugnacious nobleman, she had torn out the stitches and removed the box, discarding the wrappings beneath her mattress as if they were a bloody dagger, some dastardly weapon that, if discovered, might serve to incriminate her.


    You are a mouse no more, she told herself. You are the jewel of Aros, lady of the left hand, rider of noble Passavant. Do not let some old man bully you into tears without at least defending yourself.


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    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡± a familiar voice suddenly came from behind her, causing her to start. Mouse turned to see the grey-eyed guardsman walking toward her down the hall.


    ¡°Bo,¡± she answered in surprise. She had not expected to see him at post, least of all in this part of the keep, but she was glad for any excuse to further delay her dread errand.


    ¡°How are you mending?¡± she asked, putting her present worries from her mind and meeting the guardsman with a smile.


    ¡°Well enough,¡± Bo answered, a lopsided grin rounding his freckled cheeks. Mouse gave the guardsman a good look over, noting that besides his plate, he seemed to be in full dress.


    ¡°Can you really be well enough to be back in uniform so soon?¡± she asked, eyeing the arm still folded carefully against his side.


    Bo shrugged his good shoulder.


    ¡°Seems so,¡± he said, his smile unfaltering.


    Mouse looked at him curiously.


    ¡°Strange days these are,¡± the guardsman said with a shake of his curly head.


    ¡°What can you mean?¡± Mouse asked in mounting interest.


    ¡°Three times this week Her Majesty has asked for my personal escort,¡± the guardsman said. ¡°Had me walk her around the gardens and such, asking me about myself what there isn¡¯t much to tell.¡±


    Mouse smiled, privy as she had been to a conversation that made this one less surprising and pleased, in a way, that Bo should be getting a bit of attention.


    ¡°What should be so strange about that?¡± she asked as naturally as she could.


    ¡°Well, look at me,¡± Bo cried, proffering his arm that still hung wrapped in a sling. ¡°What kind of a guard am I?¡±


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°Perhaps it is not protection the Empress wants,¡± she replied evocatively.


    The guardsman furrowed his brow.


    ¡°Well then, what does she want?¡± he asked.


    Mouse sighed. Were all men so thick, she wondered, or was it just a personal affectation of this particular one?


    ¡°The Empress,¡± she said deliberately, ¡°Empress though she may be, is still a woman.¡±


    There was a moment of prolonged silence before the guardsman¡¯s eyes suddenly widened, his ears flushing pink.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked, reeling from the implication. ¡°You mean to say that she might¡ª¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°No. I mean, I¡¯m just¡ªI couldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    The color on his ears had now spread to his face.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Mouse asked, amused at the guardsman¡¯s apparent show of humility.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he stammered. ¡°I just, well¡ª¡±


    Mouse watched as his blushing bewilderment slowly turned to a smile, his vivid grey eyes beginning to glimmer at the prospect of his luck.


    ¡°Say, you don¡¯t supposed Lady Mathilde would forgive me if I¡ª¡± He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Mouse.


    Mouse laughed. She did not think it was his boyish charm that interested the Empress, but there certainly was something endearing about the man.


    ¡°Oh, but no,¡± the guardsman frowned, shaking his head, ¡°Johannes would kill me.¡±


    ¡°If he found out,¡± Mouse said.


    ¡°If he found out,¡± echoed Bo.


    Mouse looked at the dark-haired freckled-cheeked guardsman. It was funny, she thought, to have found such a friend where she never would have thought to look. She supposed it was the intimacy of their country retreat, something about the shared uncertainty and the bread broken together nightly that had made them all begin to appreciate one another in a new light.


    ¡°Speak of the devil and he shall appear,¡± Bo said now, raising his eyes to look behind Mouse. She turned to see Johannes walking down the hallway and prayed that he would not continue in their direction. Even from a distance, she could see a large bruise on the left side of his face, though much to her dismay, it appeared to be an inoffensive shade of red rather than an ugly hue of green as she had hoped.


    ¡°I wonder what got a hold of him,¡± Bo murmured as the nobleman appeared to eye them both from a distance before turning down an adjoining corridor.


    Mouse was relieved that the nobleman had not come any closer; she did not know that she was equal to the task of confronting both him and Ludger on the same day. Moreover, she was hoping that word of the incident would not travel beyond the parties present, however unlikely that may be.


    While she did not feel a morsel of guilt for hitting the nobleman as she had, only time would tell if she would come to regret it. Johannes might have fallen out of the favor with the Empress for the moment, but he would not remain as such forever, and Mouse trusted that the punishment for leaving a mark upon the favorite''s otherwise faultless countenance was not like to be a light one. Her best hope at escaping unscathed, or so thought Mouse, was that the nobleman¡¯s ego would prevent him from disclosing the details of his marring.


    ¡°Well,¡± Bo said, looking down at Mouse. ¡°I suppose I better leave you to it. But if you need me, I¡¯ll be¡ª¡± He guardsman paused, wrinkling his freckled nose. ¡°Actually, I don¡¯t know where I¡¯ll be.¡±


    ¡°If I need you, I¡¯ll find you,¡± Mouse said, releasing him with a gentle smile.


    Mouse looked down at the flagging beneath her feet as she listened to the guardsman recede. Part of her wished that he had not gone so soon, but another part of her knew that if she continued to defer her task, it would be all too easy to do so indefinitely.


    No, this was the time to act, before either she or the old man had chance to stew further upon the matter. If she did not speak now, her courage was like to turn either to cowardice or wrath.


    You are a mouse no more, she told herself. You are the jewel of Aros, plume of the south, purveyor of rejoinders eternal. Do not let the old man make you feel inferior without at least speaking your own side of things.


    She steeled herself with one last deep breath, raising her hand to the great wooden door before her, and knocked.

 Chapter 18: Truth & Lies

    Mouse stood face to face with a round-faced boy who bore upon his head the most hideous crop of yellow hair she had ever seen. She had seen him before, though she could not remember his hair looking so garish, and wondered that she had never bothered to learn his name.


    ¡°Enter,¡± she could hear the old man call out from somewhere behind him.


    The boy moved aside to let her pass, closing the door behind her, as Mouse stepped into the room.


    Ludger sat behind his large acacia desk as usual, pen in hand, scrawling absorbedly on the parchment in front of him.


    ¡°Tea,¡± he said curtly, without looking up, and the yellow-haired boy disappeared out the door without a word.


    Mouse shifted uneasily as she stood in front of the desk, trying to maintain the composure she had walked in with. She waited for the old man to say something, to bid her to sit or ask her purpose, but he did not speak. In fact, he did not even look at her.


    Perhaps she had made a mistake in coming, she began to think. If the old man refused to even acknowledge her, what was the sense in any of it? What could she hope to gain from seeking the ear of someone who treated her as little more than a piece of furniture cluttering his rooms?


    As the minutes passed, Mouse felt her irritation at being ignored begin to grow, but at last, the boy returned, tray in hand, and placed the tea things on the desk. Ludger waved the boy away, and he vanished once again, this time through a narrow door by the bookcase.


    It was funny, Mouse thought. Ludger never called for tea while she was with him. She was his pupil, not his guest, as he had often reminded her, and tea was only for guests.


    With a final flourish, the old man replaced his pen on the desk and leaned back into his chair.


    ¡°So,¡± he said, giving Mouse an appraising look, ¡°have you come to tell me that I was wrong?¡±


    Mouse lifted her chin, looking at the old man behind the desk unflinchingly.


    ¡°No,¡± she said defiantly, though it was clearly a lie.


    ¡°No?¡± the old man raised a bushy brow at her. ¡°Then why?¡±


    Mouse did not know what to say. The old man knew her well, too well for her to think she could conceal her intent from him. And he knew her, she realized now, far better than she knew him.


    But still, she would not substantiate his surmise.


    She looked down at the parcel held within her arms, the blue linen doing little to conceal the shape of the box it swathed, and set it upon the desk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to return this,¡± she said solemnly.


    The old man settled into his chair, lacing his fingers over the bulge of his protruding stomach as he watched Mouse from behind penetrating grey eyes.


    ¡°I am afraid you cannot return it,¡± he said. ¡°It is yours.¡±


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°I do not want it,¡± she said decisively.


    This was perhaps the closest she had ever come to arguing with Ludger, the closest she had come to defying him.


    The old man did not break his gaze, as if by continuing to stare at Mouse he might bend her to his will.


    But Mouse would not bend, not here, not now. This was her stand.


    She might have little power to defy the Empress, the Council, the court, even the old man himself, but she could, she thought with satisfaction, deny him this. She could refuse his gift.


    And in doing so, she could refute his otherwise absolute authority over her.


    But what the old man said next all but rendered Mouse¡¯s defiance of him ineffectual.


    ¡°Your father wanted you to have it,¡± he said.


    Mouse felt something reel inside of her at these unexpected words, as though someone had grabbed her about the waist and knocked the wind out of her for a moment.


    No one had ever spoken to her about her parents. All she had ever known was that they were Toths, and that they had both perished when she was still a babe.


    She looked at the old man, her mind gripped by the thought that whatever hid inside the box may have been passed down from her father, a man who she would never meet but had longed, for the whole of her life, to know.


    If there was any truth in what he said, it was worth knowing, and it was with a diminishing reluctance that she lowered herself into the chair across from the old man¡¯s desk.


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    Ludger lifted the pot of tea, pouring it out carefully into one of the small white cups, before gesturing for Mouse to take it.


    Mouse had never seen him pour tea before. She didn¡¯t know he could pour tea.


    She took the cup as bade and looked down into the thin grey drink. The tea was warm, Mouse reflected as she held the cup her hands, not hot as it was when the Empress called for it. Perhaps his age would not allow for it, she wondered, but more likely, it was the case that when the Master of Tomes called for tea, it was not treated with the same sense of urgency as when the sovereign called for it.


    She brought the cup to her lips, sipping gingerly from it to make sure it was not poisoned.


    ¡°He would have like to have given it to you himself,¡± the old man continued, ¡°but,¡± he drew a breath, ¡°circumstance prevented it.¡±


    Mouse felt a strange heat begin to build behind her eyes as she raised the cup to her lips once again, this time draining it in a feeble attempt to swallow down the lump forming in her throat.


    The old man nodded toward the box. Open it, his eyes seemed to say. But Mouse suddenly found that she did not want to open it.


    She had been eager before, nearly brimming with curiosity as to its contents. But now, she had become afraid, as if in opening the box, all the pain of her past might suddenly come spilling out.


    What secrets might be held within? Or worse, what disappointments?


    Mouse looked at the box that sat waiting for her to open it. There was only one way of knowing.


    She took the blue linen into her hands. You are a mouse no more, she told herself. You are the jewel of Aros, vanquisher of mysterious boxes.


    She fumbled with the knot of the wrappings, feeling the old man¡¯s eyes on her all the while. She tugged at the linen, the box slowly revealing itself, and gazed down at the familiar polished wood, the ivy engraved into the lid identical in every discernable way to the one she had seen on the Empress¡¯s table.


    She traced a finger along the design carefully etched into the wood, admiring the intricacy of it, before hooking a thumb under the smooth brass latch and lifting it.


    ¡°It was made on the occasion of your birth,¡± the old man said, ¡°as a gift for your mother.¡± His voice was somber but not without emotion as he spoke. ¡°Unfortunately, she did not live long enough to wear it.¡±


    Within the box laid a blue velvet pillow, upon which was draped an ornate golden necklace. The design consisted of tiny flowers pressed delicately in gold encircling one another to form a chain. Mouse stared down at in stunned silence. She had never seen anything so beautiful in all her life.


    ¡°Perhaps you recognize the design?¡± Ludger prodded.


    ¡°The mallow of Toth,¡± Mouse answered quietly, unable to look away from the necklace.


    Here it was, the one thing left to her by the two people in the world who mattered more to her than anything else.


    She did not understand why she had been given this opulent gift, this thing that she could never wear. The mallow was the sigil of the Toth family, old as the Empire itself, but only royalty was allowed to outwardly bear it.


    But it did not matter, for she knew now that at some time many years ago, her parents had thought of her as they placed the necklace gently inside the box. They had imagined her, Mouse thought, not as the babe that she was but as the woman she would later become, and they had loved her. She felt that love now, reaching out through time to touch her where she sat in the old man¡¯s chambers.


    She did not feel the tears coming, but she saw them as they landed on her hands, as they fell onto the small blue pillow inside the box.


    ¡°I wonder,¡± said the old man, ¡°if you understand what it means, what I am trying to tell you.¡±


    Mouse shook her head, her chin trembling as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She knew what her own heart felt, but she did not understand what he might be trying to tell her.


    Perhaps it was an apology, she thought, his way of making amends for the damaging words he had spoken to her.


    ¡°What I am trying to tell you,¡± Ludger said, his word slow and measured, ¡°is that you, Maudeleine Toth are the trueborn daughter of Emperor Lothar Toth and Elke of Ahnderland.¡±


    Mouse pushed away the tears on her cheeks, listening to the old man¡¯s words travel to her as if from somewhere far away.


    ¡°In other words,¡± he said, ¡°you are the sister of the Empress Idalia Aemilia Toth. Or to be more precise, her twin.¡±


    Mouse did not look up at the old man. Instead, she continued to stare at the necklace she held in her lap.


    What a strange thing to say, she thought to herself, to tell someone they are the sister of the Empress.


    With one last look, she closed the lid of the box, flipping the latch closed and replacing it upon the desk.


    Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes to the old man¡¯s face, wiping at the last of her tears with her sleeve. She looked at the sun spots that dotted his skin, the thin white hairs that sprouted from his ears, the thick bushy brows that hung over his eyes.


    He was old, she reflected, older than she probably had realized. Perhaps this was his death rattle, to lash out at her with cruel accusations only to then draw her into bizarre fabrications, some desperate last attempt to mold and manipulate her.


    Mouse sighed. He had made a fool of her, she realized, just as the Empress had done with her fool¡¯s drink.


    She looked at the box before her.


    How much of it had been a lie? she wondered. How much of the old man¡¯s story had been invented?


    All of it, she supposed.


    Her parents, whoever they had been, had not left her some opulent golden chain to wear about her neck as she pranced around playing Empress. No, they had left her nothing more than a name, that and a face full of dark southern features that had sealed her fate.


    Mouse did not know whether to hang her head in shame or laugh at her own stupidity. She could forgive the old man for tricking her, but she could not forgive herself.


    She placed her hands on the arm of the chair, and raised herself to leave.


    ¡°I know you do not believe me now,¡± Ludger said, ¡°but you will come to, in time.¡±


    Mouse bit her lip and turned her head away, suppressing every urge she had to pick up the box and hurl it against the wall.


    ¡°Sooner or later,¡± the old man said, ¡°you will be brave enough to face the truth.¡±


    Mouse felt the anger begin to build inside her. Bravery? she thought with a bitter laugh to herself. Bravery had nothing to do with this.


    Bravery was what had been required for her to come here, to approach with an apology and a plea to be heard to someone who would never deign to offer her either.


    But credulity¡ªthat was what had compelled her to stay, and it seemed that was all the old man desired of her.


    ¡°Your parents wanted more for you than this,¡± Ludger persisted. ¡°They wanted you to know who you truly are.¡±


    But Mouse found that she could listen no more to the old man¡¯s ramblings, could bear his oppressive nonsense no longer.


    If that was so, she thought to herself as she pulled open the door that led out into the hall, then perhaps they should not have left me.


    And without another look back at the old man or the box, she left.

 Chapter 19: Prince of Aros

    Mouse stared fixedly at the Empress, noting, as best she could, every detail of her appearance from the slight upturn of her nose to the curve of her cheek.


    These observations served to confirm the result of her previous study carried out in the glass the night before, revealing a nose that was somewhat rounder, a chin that was not quite so small, and eyes a shade lighter than the Empress¡¯s. And while Mouse knew that twins need not look identical, just as cousins, even distant ones, need not look dissimilar, she could not see a likeness equal to allow that they should be anything other than the latter.


    She had always known that she shared blood with the Empress; she was a Toth after all. But she was certain beyond a doubt that she did not share enough to call her a sister. If it could not be said that their looks were sufficiently distinct, everything within their dispositions must serve to confirm Mouse¡¯s surmise.


    The Empress was forceful where Mouse was yielding, daring where Mouse was timid, quick-tempered and changeable where Mouse was constant.


    Two more different people, she told herself, had never been born. The fact that it had even been suggested was the most absurd revelation that had ever endeavored to make itself known, and Mouse would not believe it for even the smallest fraction of a moment.


    Her resemblance to the Empress had been both a blessing and a curse to her for most of her life, and now, she feared, it would also be the tipping point in her relationship with the old man, who seemed content to berate and beguile her with nonsense.


    The Empress now stood in the middle of the somewhat cramped auxiliary chamber, her dark eyes traveling over a sheet of parchment covered front and back in a scrawling hand.


    ¡°Do they mean to insult me?¡± she scoffed, holding out the sheet as her free hand took up a cup of wine from the table. ¡°I ask for a delegation, and they send me a child.¡±


    Mouse retrieved the sheet of parchment from the Empress¡¯s outstretched hand and dutifully refilled her cup, narrowly avoiding a collision with the clothier who was buzzing about, persistently if unsuccessfully trying to draw a string across the Empress¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°The Val is no younger than you were when you took the throne, Majesty,¡± Lord Alfric said, reclining back into his richly upholstered chair with one leg crossed over the other, twirling absently at his mustaches as he watched the clothier¡¯s apprentice bend beneath the weight of the fabric draped across outstretched arms.


    ¡°And do you think that at fifteen I was not a child?¡± the Empress returned, casting a pointed look in the courtier''s direction. ¡°I urge you to be careful how you answer that question, Alfric.¡±


    A gleam flashed across the eyes of the mustachioed courtier as he uncrossed his legs and sat forward, snapping his fingers at Mouse, who carried to the letter to him with no small degree of annoyance at being beckoned thusly.


    ¡°You were indeed young when you ascended, Majesty,¡± he replied, his eyes skimming over the scrawling script that covered the parchment. ¡°But even at just shy of sixteen, as you were, you had wisdom beyond your years and were well-versed in diplomacy and practiced in matters of state besides. Who¡¯s to say the Val won¡¯t be equally impressive?¡±


    The Empress had not been in possession of the letter above half an hour, and already it had been read through a dozen times by the different parties present.


    The Chatti had been quick to respond to the Empress¡¯s demands for a delegation, with Val Hector, an elected leader of the Chatti people, having set out at once with a retinue and already being received by General Ralist and his ladywife at Pothes Mar.


    Lady Margarethe had, of course, written to the Empress at once upon the Chatti¡¯s arrival, conveying all that information which she deemed most noteworthy, but which was, in reality, the most irrelevant, including the style of clothing worn by the members of the delegation, the number of carriages with which they rode, and a personal assessment of their personages based solely on her own conjecture.


    Mouse read the letter once again over the courtier¡¯s shoulder, looking for anything she might have missed the first few times through.


    But the letter, written, as it was, by a lady with disproportionate amounts of influence and sense, was not one of utility. It was written only to incite and excite, to rouse suspicion and dislike against the Chatti before they had even arrived at Kriftel, and it seemed to have already achieved its purpose.


    The Empress laughed at the courtier¡¯s sycophantic reply.


    ¡°Does that silver tongue of yours show no discernment in whose praise it sings?¡± she asked.


    Lord Alfric concluded his perusal of the letter and held it up for Mouse to take.


    ¡°A candle to the sun, Your Majesty," he said with a placating smile. "Val Hector is highly respected among her people. That ought to be worth something, don''t you think?¡±


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    The Empress took another drink from her cup but made no answer to this.


    ¡°Perhaps Your Majesty might venture to become acquainted with the girl before dismissing her,¡± Alfric said, ¡°or at least wait until you have laid your own eyes upon her.¡± He leaned back in his chair, returning his gaze to the clothier¡¯s laden apprentice and rubbing the tips of his mustaches between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°After all, Lady Margarethe¡¯s word is hardly worth the ink used to convey it.¡±


    Mouse was not particularly fond of Lord Alfric, but she could see why the Empress was. The man had an even, dispassionate demeanor that was not easily excited, and more importantly, had a gift for saying with an unpracticed air of persuasion that which might sound contradictory coming from anyone else.


    ¡°Lady Margarethe,¡± replied the Empress, ¡°simple though she may be, has my best interests at heart.¡±


    Lord Alfric laughed.


    ¡°Lady Margarethe has Lady Margarethe¡¯s best interests at heart,¡± he said. ¡°If she seeks so adamantly to turn you against the girl before you have yet had occasion to meet her, it is only because she feels threatened by her presence at Kriftel.¡±


    The Empress swatted impatiently at the clothier who was lingering about her waist with a string.


    ¡°You think Lady Margarethe jealous of the Chatti girl?¡± the Empress asked in something of surprise.


    Lord Alfric smiled.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said, ¡°Lady Margarethe is married to a general. A retired general. She is jealous of anyone and everyone who has yet escaped the clutches of such unhappiness.¡±


    The Empress laughed heartily at this.


    ¡°Well, she shall soon find herself in good company with Lady Agatha,¡± she smirked, taking a sip from her cup.


    Mouse had marked Lady Agatha¡¯s absence and now wondered whether it was because the poor girl was locked away in her rooms, suffering still from the painful accusations leveled against her the other day at breakfast, or from the news of her impending nuptials to a certain gauche Councilor.


    Mouse had not believed at first that the Empress truly intended to wed the girl to Lord Hildimar, but it seemed now that there was little to contest it, and though the match likely seemed little more a condemnation of the most egregious kind to the girl, Mouse did not think it without its benefits.


    What Lord Hildimar lacked in looks, style, and charm, he made up for, at least to some degree, in other ways; he was an accomplished and well-respected man of the court not without influence and was in possession of good connections and sufficient coin to make any woman comfortable. Furthermore, his age and experience might prove beneficial to a young and impressionable lady like Agatha.


    Lady Agatha had not had the advantage of a strong education and had no immediate family at court to advise or protect her. She had therefore been left for much of her life largely to her own devices, under the guidance of a few undiscerning ladies and the persuasion of the most degenerate nobleman to plague the court. Upon each inevitable misstep, she was then made to suffer at the hands of one who seemed to make sport of punishing others.


    Besides all that Lord Hildimar might offer the young lady in terms of material comfort, he often traveled, meaning that if Agatha was unable to find love in her marriage, she might at least find it elsewhere from time to time.


    ¡°It is a shame for a girl with Agatha¡¯s looks to be wasted on a man like Hildimar,¡± Alfric said, twirling at his mustaches, ¡°but perhaps the man will surprise us all and make something of her yet.¡± He cast a glance toward the cluster of ladies who sat giggling on the far side of the room. ¡°After all,¡± he said, ¡°a young mind is often more pliable than a more mature one.¡± He looked at the Empress. ¡°Do not you agree, Your Majesty?¡±


    Lord Alfric was clever, thought Mouse. He had softened the Empress with flattery before leading her to his object, and he had left enough unsaid that the Empress might even think it her own idea to bring the Chatti girl into her camarilla, to allow the court to influence the Val rather than the other way around.


    ¡°I supposed that as usual, Alfric,¡± the Empress sighed, ¡°you may have the right of it.¡± She took another drink from her cup. ¡°But I¡¯ve a dozen gold crowns that say the girl is either an illiterate, a mute, or both.¡±


    The courtier¡¯s eyes gleamed.


    ¡°Make it two and you¡¯ve a willing adversary,¡± he smiled, his mustaches tipping to the side.


    Lord Alfric had been born Aelfheah, Prince Aelfheah, in fact, but had changed his name to conceal his parentage and better assimilate to Arosian culture. His efforts had been a rousing success, for not only did nobody seem to remember that he hailed from the western islands and had come to Aros to escape the escalating threat of a continual string of peasant uprisings, but he was now, in fact, one of the most fashionable and covetous Lords among the Empress¡¯s court.


    He had distinguished himself in the Arosian court through his diplomacy and connections with high-ranking members of foreign courts, but his most impressive achievement was the rapidity with which he had risen in favor with the Empress, gaining her ear while sacrificing nothing of his own freedom.


    The man was well-dressed, well-liked, and for the moment, the closest thing the Empress had to an advisor, and though he possessed what many might call too much self-importance, he wore it with such ¨¦lan that it did not seem to detract from his virtues.


    Mouse moved to once again fill the Empress¡¯s cup, which she had replaced upon the table so that she might examine the swaths of fabric laid out by the clothier. However, as she crossed to do so, Lord Alfric grabbed her by the wrist.


    ¡°I wonder if you have seen our Lord Johannes lately,¡± he said, looking up at her from his chair. ¡°He¡¯s been missed our last two card games, and he still owes me a fair sum.¡±


    Mouse wrested her wrist from him in perturbation.


    ¡°You know the man I¡¯m talking about,¡± the courtier said, ¡°handsome fellow who can¡¯t seem to keep his boots under the right bed?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, sir, I know Lord Johannes,¡± Mouse replied, praying her face would not betray her lie. ¡°But I have not the privilege of a recent exchange.¡±


    Lord Alfric looked her over carefully.


    ¡°Is that right?¡± he murmured. ¡°Well, if you do happen upon him,¡± he said, ¡°let him know I am eager to have both my winnings and my saddle back. I¡¯ve a new palfrey to break in, and that man of his from Silver Lake is long overdue.¡±


    Mouse felt the hair on her arms stand on end as the all the blood seemed to drain from her face.


    ¡°I beg your pardon,¡± she said, the words seeming to fall from her mouth.


    The courtier smiled curiously at her.


    ¡°What part are you having trouble understanding, my dear?¡± he asked.


    The second part, Mouse wanted to say, the part about Lord Johannes and a saddler from Silver Lake. But she could not seem to produce the words.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± the courtier sighed with a patronizing smile, ¡°why don¡¯t you just tell him that Alfric¡¯s looking for him?¡±

 Chapter 20: The Mallow

    Mouse squeezed the little archer tafl piece tightly in her hands, holding it to her chest. You are the jewel of Aros, she told herself, tamer of terrible thoughts.


    Her legs were tucked up tightly beneath as she lay under the thick blankets, willing herself northward, to the large stone house with a half-moon painted on the door.


    She had not left her chambers in more than a day, so tormented she was by horrible images of arrows and screaming horses and Johannes¡¯s sickening grin. Could any of it be true, she wondered, Ludger¡¯s ravings


    or was it all part of some horrible dream?


    She rubbed her thumb along the little archer¡¯s bow as she held it in her grasp, longing for the Foilunder¡¯s comforting presence. If she could but borrow his ear, perhaps she might talk herself out of frenzied thoughts that plagued her, or better still, he might distract her with stories of his homeland.


    How she yearned to hear his thick northern accent, to see the sunlight dance in his bright blue eyes, to watch the pink tufts of Prusian silk fall upon his shoulders.


    She would go to him, she told herself. North she would ride on the back of noble Passavant, to the mighty Manau and across Kingfishers¡¯ bridge, just as soon as she gathered the courage to leave her chambers.


    Suddenly, a knock came at the door, rousing Mouse from her thoughts and sending her heart into her throat. Quietly, she climbed from her feathers and padded to the door, pressing her ear against it to listen for any suspect sound.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± she called.


    ¡°Georund of Caldiff,¡± the muffled voice came from the other side. ¡°Oi, Mouse, it¡¯s me, Pritha.¡± Mouse allowed a sigh of relief to escape her lips as she unlatched the door and opened it just enough to see that the gap-toothed serving girl on the other side was alone before ushering her quickly inside.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Pritha asked with a laugh as Mouse pulled her by the arm through the crack in the door, relatching it hurriedly. But the smile quickly fell from her face as she stopped to look Mouse over.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked, no doubt noticing Mouse¡¯s unkempt hair and rumpled gown, telltale signs that she had not left her room in some time.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mouse replied. ¡°Well, no. Maybe.¡± She smiled weakly. ¡°I will be.¡±


    Pritha gave her a sympathetic look.


    ¡°It¡¯s not Lord Johannes, is it?¡± she asked. ¡°I tell you, I laid eyes on him the other day and it looked like someone clocked him a nice one,¡± she smirked. ¡°Can¡¯t say he didn¡¯t have that coming from someone or another. A lot of someones, most likely.¡±


    Mouse bit her lip, trying to decide how much to say to the girl. It was not as though she did not trust Pritha, but there were things she dare not even repeat out loud to herself.


    Besides, she hadn¡¯t any idea how much of what she had heard was true. The part about her being the Empress¡¯s sister was decidedly the most fallacious piece of information passed to her recently, but the implication that Johannes may have somehow been involved with the dead man from Silver Lake, well, who was to say whether or not that might be grounded in fact.


    ¡°Johannes is part of the problem,¡± Mouse admitted hesitantly, ¡°but¡ª¡± She shook her head. ¡°Well, there¡¯s always something, isn¡¯t there?¡± she sighed.


    Pritha took Mouse¡¯s hands up in her own, looking into her friend¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Tell me what I can do,¡± she said. ¡°You want me to sneak you up a bottle of something nice and strong? There¡¯s a new one in the pantry, and I¡¯m telling you, he¡¯s got eyes for me. I reckon there¡¯s not much he wouldn¡¯t let me get away with.¡±


    Mouse laughed appreciatively.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her heart lightening at Pritha¡¯s kindness. ¡°Actually,¡± she said, an idea suddenly occurring to her, ¡°if it¡¯s not too much trouble, do you mind asking Jasper about something for me?¡±


    Pritha smiled.


    ¡°Go on, then,¡± she said.


    ¡°Ask him if he knows anything about a saddler from Silver Lake,¡± Mouse said. ¡°Johannes may have been in contact with the man. He¡¯s called Jens.¡±


    ¡°Jens the saddler from Silver Lake,¡± Pritha nodded. ¡°Got it. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mouse said with a smile, crossing to her dressing table and taking up a small white cube from a wooden bowl. ¡°Ask him to give this to Passavant for me,¡± she said, placing the sugar cube into Pritha¡¯s open hand. She¡¯d been collecting them from the breakfast table, taking one or two down to give to the grey gelding each time she passed the stables.


    Pritha looked down at the sugar cube in her hand.


    ¡°Have you got one for me?¡± she asked with a grin.


    When Pritha had gone, Mouse retreated once again to the safety of her bed, climbing atop her feathers and pulling the heavy blankets back up over her head. She was glad for her friend¡¯s helpfulness and the momentary reprieve from her ruminations, but she still did not feel herself equal to the task of facing the world at large.


    However, she was not long at repose before another knock came at her door. Could it be Pritha back again so soon? she wondered, climbing from her feathers. She padded back over to the door, leaning close enough to it that her ear rested against the wood.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± she called.


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    The voice that came back was too quiet to be heard, too muffled to make out the speaker. Mouse reluctantly opened the door a sliver, just enough to see a crop-haired page waiting outside.


    The girl, upon seeing her, did not wait for Mouse to open the door any further before addressing her.


    ¡°My lady,¡± the girl bowed. ¡°I¡¯m bade tell you that you are no longer unwell and therefore have no excuse to be further absent from Council.¡±


    Mouse scoffed indignantly.


    ¡°And who may I thank for these glad tidings?¡± she asked.


    But the page only looked back at Mouse, pressing her lips together, creating the distinct impression that she had been asked not to disclose this information.


    Mouse raised a querulous eyebrow.


    ¡°Was it my sovereign who sent you,¡± she asked, ¡°or some old man who imagines himself a great keeper of secrets and master of all?¡±


    The girl looked at her for another moment as if deciding whether or not to answer.


    ¡°The old man,¡± she said at last.


    ¡°Well then,¡± said Mouse, ¡°I thank you for your diligence in conveying this communiqu¨¦.¡± And with that, she closed the door. But no sooner had she latched it shut then another knock came.


    Mouse pulled it open once again, allowing only enough space through which she could see the girl.


    ¡°Can my lady be expected then?¡± the page asked. ¡°At Council, that,¡± she added quickly.


    Mouse forced a smile to her lips.


    ¡°Your master must be satisfied in knowing that you have carried out your duty, for I have no further answer on the subject,¡± she said tersely.


    The girl looked back at her questioningly.


    ¡°That means no,¡± Mouse said, closing the door once again and hoping that this time the page would leave her to her peace. But alas, her wish was not to be granted, for the girl knocked yet again.


    Mouse cracked open the door to see the girl still standing outside. This time, however, she did not speak, but instead held out a small flower to Mouse, the stem clasped in her small hand.


    It was a mallow, Mouse saw, looking down at the bud, a white one with pink around the edges of the petals.


    ¡°What am I to do with that?¡± she asked, sighing impatiently at the page.


    The girl shrugged her shoulders.


    Mouse took the mallow from the girl¡¯s hand and bit the flower off of the stem before handing it back to her.


    The girl stared at her in blank-faced confusion.


    ¡±Now, knock on my door again,¡± Mouse said, ¡°and I¡¯ll send you back to your master the same way as that flower.


    Mouse closed the door and turned back to her room, wondering if she dared tempt fate by crawling back into her bed. She stopped to look in the glass at the frowzy girl who stared back at her from behind a mess of uncombed hair that hung about her shoulders.


    You, she thought to herself, are not the jewel of Aros.


    With a reluctant sigh, she took up a comb to begin to work out the knots from her hair. Though she had managed to free herself of the persistent page, she had not been able to do away with the feeling that she must tell someone what she had gathered of Johannes¡¯s possible involvement in the incident at Silver Lake. She did not know if her concerns would be taken seriously, or if they would even be heard, but she knew that she must defer the telling of it no longer.


    In the worst case, it would come out that Johannes had indeed hired the dead man to carry out his dread deed. It was Mouse¡¯s worst fear, to think that she had been living alongside a murderous monster all the while, and in that case, it would not matter who had been his object; he would be arrested at once and likely see the noose.


    However, it may well be that his connection to the man was innocent, a coincidence. In that case, Mouse could only pray that he would not find out her accusations against him, for if he did, she certainly would not go unpunished. But better, thought Mouse, to live a lifetime under the nobleman¡¯s torment than under the fear of being killed at any moment.


    Having changed her gown and tended her hair, Mouse now slipped quietly through the door, glancing up and down the hallway as she did.


    Her object now was to find Ulrich and disclose to him what she had heard from Lord Alfric about Johannes and the saddler from Silver Lake.


    With a deep breath and a last glance behind her, she began briskly down the hallway. She did not know where she would find the head of the Empress¡¯s guard, but she supposed she had to start somewhere.


    She continued down the hall as quickly as she could, moving quietly while keeping herself alert of her surroundings. However, she must have been more distracted by her thoughts than she realized, for she did not see the hand that reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into an adjoining hallway.


    ¡°Release me!¡± Mouse cried, as she tried to pull herself free, the smell of wine greeting her before she had a chance to recognize her assailer.


    ¡°Be quiet,¡± Johannes spat, dragging her further down the hallway. ¡°For god¡¯s sake, Mouse¡± he said, as she wrested her arm from his grasp, ¡°you¡¯d think it was I who struck you and not the other way around.¡±


    Mouse looked up into the nobleman¡¯s sneering face, at the large purple bruise on his right cheek.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she demanded coldly.


    ¡°That depends,¡± said Johannes, his smile distorting the shape of the bruise. ¡°What are you offering?¡±


    Mouse huffed in disgust as tried to push past him, but the nobleman blocked her escape, grabbing both of her wrists.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll hold nice and still, and you can hit me on the other side. How does that sound?¡±


    Mouse set her jaw defiantly, her eyes darkening at the pugnacious noble.


    ¡°I¡¯ve a message for you from Lord Alfric,¡± she said through gritted teeth, yanking her wrists from his grasp.


    ¡°Do tell,¡± said Johannes, reaching for a strand of Mouse¡¯s hair.


    ¡°He wants the coin you owe him,¡± said Mouse, resisting the urge to swat his hand away, watching his face closely as she spoke. ¡°And his saddle,¡± she said, ¡°the one you had sent to Silver Lake.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± murmured Johannes, spinning a lock of Mouse¡¯s dark between his fingers before pressing it to his nose. ¡°He¡¯ll get it soon enough, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Mouse studied the nobleman¡¯s face. She had expected to see something there that would corroborate her suspicions, some momentary flash or unsuppressed twitch, a glimmer of guilt or dilation of the pupil, that might hint that he had something to hide.


    But much to her surprise, no trace of panic¡ªof anything¡ªcrossed his expression upon hearing her words.


    If Johannes did have any knowledge of the man from Silver Lake and what he had been accused of, he was either too skilled at disguising it to ever be indicted or, Mouse wondered, innocent in the matter.


    ¡°Now that you¡¯ve given me your message,¡± he said, his eyes moving from Mouse¡¯s hair to her face, ¡°I¡¯ve a message for you to deliver.¡±


    Mouse stared at him from behind cold, dark eyes.


    ¡°Tell Her Majesty,¡± he said, his eyes traveling over Mouse¡¯s countenance, ¡°I¡¯ve a gift for her. One that I think she¡¯ll like very much.¡±


    ¡°And why should I tell her?¡± Mouse asked coolly.


    ¡°Do so,¡± smiled Johannes, ¡°and I won¡¯t tell her that you¡¯re the one who gave me this,¡± he said, taking Mouse¡¯s hand and pulling it to the bruise on his face.


    Mouse yanked her hand away.


    ¡°Do you really think she would care who it was that gave you your just dues?¡±


    Johannes¡¯s smile dropped away.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do,¡± he said, his green eyes hardening. ¡°But if you care to find out¡­¡±


    Mouse bit down on her lip.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said, deciding it was not worth the risk. ¡°I¡¯ll deliver your message.¡±


    An oily smile returned to the nobleman¡¯s face.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good girl,¡± he said.


    Mouse, now free from the nobleman, pushed passed him and headed back the way she had come.


    ¡°Mouse,¡± Johannes called after her before she had chance to turn the corner.


    Mouse sighed and closed her eyes before turning back to see what the nobleman wanted. Johannes stood in the dim hallway a few steps behind her, holding out something in his hand. Mouse took a step closer, furrowing her brow as she looked at the object.


    It was a mallow, she realized, a funny feeling coming over her, a white one with pink around the edges of the petals.


    She looked from the flower to the nobleman¡¯s eyes, gleaming green against the purple of his bruise.


    ¡°I believe you dropped this.¡±

 Chapter 21: The Feast of the Fourteen

    Mouse sat in the back of the Council chamber, listening as intently as she could to the conversation passing around the great oak table that stood in the center of it.


    Her mind wanted to drift elsewhere¡ªto the many questions that raced through her head ¡ªbut she knew that if she allowed it to, it might never come back to her.


    Seeing the mallow held in the bruise-faced nobleman¡¯s hand as they stood looking at one another in the dim hallway had struck something within her, as if every implication, every possibility of what the gesture could have meant, began screaming in her mind at once, each fighting to make itself known above the others.


    What could it mean, she asked herself, that his gesture had mimicked that of the page?


    Mayhaps it was mere coincidence, the act only being given meaning by her encounter with the page girl not an hour before.


    She supposed it was possible that the nobleman might, intentionally or otherwise, be a part of the old man¡¯s scheme. But it was also possible, she thought with a chill, that there was some kind of veiled threat in the action, as if the nobleman was hinting that he knew what she and the old man were up to.


    She had turned away then, her heart thumping louder and louder within her chest, until she found herself running down the hallway in a state of acute anxiety, not stopping until she had reached the room where she now sat.


    She had not meant to go there; even after her encounter with the nobleman, she had intended to seek out Ulrich, but her feet had brought her to the familiar safety of the Council chamber, as if by a will of their own.


    It was not her scheme the old man was forwarding, and in truth, she wanted no part of it. But if anyone were to hear of it, if anyone were to suppose that she were a willing participant in this game of his, it would certainly not end well for Mouse.


    She sat now in a hard wooden chair, the blue hound Petricru using her foot as a pillow, and pinched herself any time her mind began to wander. The volley of thoughts and worries was unrelenting, but she was determined to cast them aside, at least for the time being.


    Mouse had deliberately chosen a seat away from her usual one, hoping, as she did, to avoid the old man, and though she had succeeded in putting some distance between them, she could not find it satisfactory that anything less than an entire continent should separate them.


    Mouse was certain that the little page girl had been dispatched by none other than Ludger, but Johannes, well, her thoughts could not reason through why he should be involved.


    She supposed that the one solace in consideration that the nobleman may indeed be aligned with the old man was that if he were, he could not possibly have had anything to do with the murderous attempt at Silver Lake.


    Johannes may never be a friend to Mouse, but perhaps he was not the foe that she feared.


    Mouse pinched herself on the wrist, reminding herself that this was no time to dwell on such ruminations. No, she must remain present until such a time as she could see things in a clearer light. And for now, she must continue to listen to Lord Cook speak for what felt like the eleventh straight hour of the numerous expenses that would be incurred by this year¡¯s Feast.


    ¡°We still cannot afford the same number of grooms as years past,¡± the High Treasurer was saying now, his complexion agitated from the heat and the exertion of his continued argument, ¡°not to speak of the number of rooms that will be required.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve rooms plenty here in the keep, have we not?¡± asked Lord Eadic evenly, looking over his hooked nosed at the other Councilor.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± replied Lord Cook in a bluster of annoyance, ¡°but the number of available rooms in not the problem. The problem,¡± he continued, ¡°is that housing more guests will only serve to incur further costs upon the crown in terms of labor and foodstuffs, and none of this comes cheaply.¡±


    ¡°Was this not part of the reason for your last increase in taxes?¡± Lord Eadic asked, steepling his fingers together and bending them at the knuckle.


    ¡°My tax decree?¡± Lord Cook bellowed incredulously.


    He shook his head, his cheeks quivering with the movement.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he huffed. ¡°The extra coin brought in from the last increase will hardly go far in light of the rising prices.¡±


    It was true that everything from barley to banners, mead to mail had gone up in price, and all would be needed in excess for the festivities that would ensue come Sensommer.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the High Treasurer said, seeking to regain himself, ¡°the solution is not to continuously and indiscriminately raise the tax rate; perhaps it is simply time we cast tradition aside and start, as we might have done years ago, levying a tax on dreg cakes.¡±


    At this, the High Treasurer was instantly and uproariously met with the hisses and jeers of all those present within the room as resounding and unanimous opposition to this idea broke out.


    ¡°I urge you to consider the potential benefits,¡± the High Treasurer tried to say, but he would not be heard and instead continued to be berated for his offensive suggestion.


    ¡°You are no true Arosian!¡± the other Councilors could be heard to shout. ¡°A pincer in that traitorous mouth of his!¡±


    But Lord Cook only grew more red-faced and indignant than before, raising his voice to make himself heard above the din.


    ¡°It is hardly fair to the other guilds if we continue to favor the dreg cake bakers and¡ª"


    ¡°Hang this traitor for this treasonous speech!¡± the Empress jeered. ¡°A hundred years have the dreg bakers prospered, and a hundred more!¡±


    ¡°Aye!¡± cried the other Councilors.


    Lord Cook, thought Mouse as she watched the round-faced Councilor bluster in frustration, was very near to bursting. But he had brought this spectacle of outrage upon himself.


    After all, dreg cakes were practically as revered as the crown itself in Aros, and decidedly better loved.


    Though the history of the dreg cake could not be told for certain, it was likely older than the Feast itself, which was the origin of its great cultural significance.


    The legend went that as the fourteen Knights of Toth sat gathered inside of the keep, having been under siege, as they had been, for fourteen days and fourteen nights and on the brink of running out of provisions, they began to gather up all the old bits of dough and fry them so that they might have something to sustain them a bit longer.


    However, instead of eating these ¡°dreg cakes,¡± as they were so called, one of the knights struck upon the idea that if they were to throw the cakes over the castle walls, they might taunt the enemy and trick them into believing that their provisions within the walls were so great, so abundant that they need not ration them. If they could convince their enemies that they had enough food within that they could afford to simply throw it away, they might yet prevail, despite their numbers being few and their food being all but used up.


    In the end, their tactic worked, and the enemy gave up their siege. This historic event was the birth of the Feast of the Fourteen, and in reverence of the dreg cake and the role it played in the Knights¡¯ victory, it was declared a free right of the people, and as such, its sale had never been taxed.


    Though there was no evidence of this tale being true, the legend persisted, and the dreg cake had long been one of the most popular foods enjoyed throughout the Feast.


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    ¡°I am afraid then,¡± said Lord Cook when at last he could be heard over the shouts of the others, ¡°that I have no further suggestions.¡±


    ¡°I have an idea,¡± said Lord Toffrey. ¡°Why not start levying a tax on breathing the crown¡¯s air?¡± The other Councilors laughed.


    ¡°Or taking a shit,¡± chimed in Lord Ramburt, drawing even more laughter from the room.


    The High Treasurer puffed out his cheeks indignantly but made no reply to the jests.


    ¡°Or,¡± said the Empress as the laughter began to die down, ¡°perhaps it is not a question of what we draw the funds from, but whom.¡±


    She looked at the Councilors who sat watching her expectantly.


    ¡°Perhaps it is time that the Chatti start giving to the Feast.¡±


    Lord Rambert shifted uncomfortably in his chair while Lord Eadic withdrew his eyes.


    ¡°After all,¡± continued the Empress, ¡°all the other fiefdoms contribute something, whether grain or ale.


    ¡°Which is then redistributed among them,¡± interrupted one of the Councilors.


    ¡°Yes, thank you, Lord Rambert,¡± said the Empress sardonically. ¡°But with ten thousand men on their borders and a delegation in the capital, it seems only fair that they should give equally. They are part of the Arosian Empire, are they not?¡±


    The room was quiet as the Councilors began to shift uneasily in their chairs.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± began Lord Rambert, his mustache quivering as he spoke, ¡°we can hardly ask the Chatti to back a celebration of Toth nobles.¡±


    The Empress leaned forward in her chair and looked pointedly at the High Marshal.


    ¡°Do you think that it is nobles you see in the lists, Lord Rambert?¡± the Empress asked.


    ¡°No, but¡ª"


    ¡°What about in the melee?¡±


    Mouse could see Lord Rambert¡¯s bushy brows twitch under his questioning.


    ¡°All Toths,¡± the Empress said sternly, looking about the now-silent room. ¡°All Toths are celebrated during the Feast of the Fourteen.¡±


    ¡°And yet no one below a yeoman may compete,¡± Lord Rambert said, apparently giving little care as to whether his impertinence on the matter might cost him his seat.


    The Empress¡¯s dark eyes flashed at the High Marshal before she leaned back into her chair, letting her shoulders slouch as she took up her cup of wine.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she said after a few minutes of silence. ¡°This year shall be a true celebration of Toths.¡±


    The Councilors looked round the table at one another, casting furtive glances at one another.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡± Lord Eadic ventured.


    ¡°This year, we celebrate the Toth line,¡± the Empress said, ¡°not just the Fourteen. Not just the knights, not just the yeomen.¡± She replaced her cup upon the table. ¡°Anyone who can prove their Toth lineage is welcome to compete in the tournament.¡±


    The room had become so quiet that Peticru¡¯s soft snores could no doubt be heard on the other end of it.


    ¡°Majesty, are you quite certain that is a good idea?¡± asked Lord Rambert, doubtless echoing the thoughts of all those sat around the table.


    ¡°Send word round the Empire,¡± continued the Empress without answering the Councilor, ¡°that any man, woman, or child wishing to compete must needs only prove their Toth heritage and be given the approval of their overlord to participate.¡± She took her cup back up. ¡°Granted their skills have been assessed and deemed adequate.¡±


    Another round of nervous looks and uneasy throat clearing followed.


    ¡°But, Majesty,¡± Lord Rambert protested ¡°that could mean hundreds¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then only the best shall compete in the capital,¡± the Empress said. ¡°Ten in the lists, ten on the range, and what, twenty-four on the field?¡±


    Lord Rambert looked around at the other Councilors to see if any would come to his aid, but they all seemed too dumbstruck by the idea to speak.


    ¡°Do you not think the lords will object?¡± he suggested, his mustache twitching in agitation as he spoke.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± replied the Empress. ¡°Their lords will be overjoyed. Think of it: the people¡¯s champion, returning home to some little village east of Yarbruck, decked in the honor and glory of the crown, a parade of eminence following him.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No, I do not think their lords will mind. In fact, they¡¯re like to send enough gifts and provisions with their challengers that we¡¯ll scarcely need pay for a thing ourselves.¡±


    It was not such a bad idea, thought Mouse. In fact, it might actually be rather a good one. Her concerns, however, were likely the same as those of everyone present, specifically, that if for some reason the Empress¡¯s plan were to fail, it would be everyone else who received the blame. And if the plan were to succeed, they might never hear the end of such schemes.


    ¡°Lord Rambert, you can see to the arrangements, can you not?¡± The Empress¡¯s eyes glistened darkly at the High Marshal.


    ¡°Me, Your Majesty?¡± he asked in apparent incredulity.


    The Empress smiled.


    ¡°You certainly seem to have your skepticism about the matter, and as the enterprise¡¯s greatest critic, perhaps you will prove its greatest administrator.¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Lord Rambert began to protest, ¡°I am a Marshal.¡±


    ¡°Then it is a glad thing that we are not at war,¡± smiled the Empress.


    She brought her cup to her lips.


    ¡°If you require any assistance, I¡¯m sure the other Councilors will be eager to help you. Or perhaps you could call upon my uncle.¡±


    Confusion once again descended upon the table.


    ¡°Is Lord Marius to be joining us?¡± Lord Eadic asked earnestly, leaning forward in his chair.


    ¡°Yes, thank you for asking,¡± said the Empress, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. ¡°He writes that he will soon depart Puente Qalina, and I expect we shall see him before Sensommer.¡±


    The news of Marius¡¯s coming was as much a shock to Mouse as to everyone else.


    She recalled writing to him during their time at Silver Lake, but she had not realized that he replied. Perhaps, she wondered, the correspondence had arrived as lately as yesterday, when she was locked inside her chambers.


    ¡°And, erm, how long do you expect the gentleman may be staying with us?¡± Lord Eadic asked.


    The Empress¡¯s eyes narrowed as a smile spread across her lips.


    ¡°Lord Eadic,¡± she said, ¡°if I did not know better, I might guess that you do not care much for my uncle.¡±


    ¡°Verily,¡± Lord Eadic shook his head. ¡°I think most highly of Lord Marius. We all do,¡± he said, looking about at the other Councilors for their assent.


    ¡°Good,¡± said the Empress. ¡°I was worried that there may be some opposition to the notion. It is glad for him that he will be among friends, and I do hope that he will therefore find it no inconvenience to remain with us for some time.¡±


    A look of suppressed perturbation passed over Lord Eadic¡¯s face at this.


    It was no secret that Marius of Ahnderland was not well liked within the walls of Kriftel. He had strongly opposed his sister¡¯s marriage to the Arosian Emperor Lothar, objecting to it perhaps even more strongly than he had objected to his kingdom being joined to the Empire.


    In fact, there were many that had witnessed Marius¡¯s resentment toward the union who now harbored a secret notion that he might somehow have been involved in the Emperor¡¯s death. Of course, this made little sense, given that the Emperor had died of an illness that had first weakened him in childhood before coming back in his later years to finish the job.


    Mouse did not know the man Marius well enough to either like or dislike him. She had spent little time in his company and could not recall ever exchanging a single word with him.


    But that did not stop the altogether bizarre idea from occurring to her that had there had been any truth to Ludger¡¯s outlandish claims in regard to her parentage, Marius might be her uncle as well.


    Just then, as the Councilors sat uncomfortably upon the news of a most disliked interloper soon to be joining them, a seneschal was announced and let in through the door past the guard.


    All eyes turned to the man as he offered a deep bow.


    It must be something important, thought Mouse, for the man to be let in during a Council session.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the seneschal said, his face indeed grave, ¡°I must beg your pardon for the interruption. An urgent situation has developed, and I have been dispatched by the Captain of the royal guard to apprise you of its occurrence.¡±


    The Empress looked at the man, clearly unimpressed.


    ¡°So tell me,¡± she said flatly.


    The man took a few uncertain steps forward. He was nervous, saw Mouse, and nervousness from a seneschal dispatched by the head of the guard was usually not a good thing.


    ¡°I, erm¡ª¡± The man approached the Empress before leaning over and beginning to whisper into her ear.


    ¡°For god¡¯s sake,¡± the Empress said, smacking the seneschal away with an open hand. ¡°Get your damp breath out of my ear.¡± She glared at the man in annoyance as he took a few steps backward. ¡°Whatever you have to tell me, you can say in front of my Council.¡±


    ¡°That is,¡± the man said anxiously, ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I cannot, Your Majesty. I have received instruction to tell you and you alone.¡±


    ¡°Well, you can tell me from there,¡± the Empress said. ¡°Come any closer and I¡¯ll have your head on the block.¡±


    ¡°Yes, erm, yes, Your Majesty,¡± the seneschal said, clearing his throat as a few of the Councilors chuckled at his awkwardness.


    ¡°The captain has bade me inform you,¡± the man began uneasily, looking around anxiously at the room of faces staring at him, ¡°that a, erm, a man has been apprehended.¡±


    ¡°What sort of man?¡± the Empress asked.


    ¡°A man,¡± said the seneschal, doing his best to speak in a low voice, though it was clear that everyone in the room could hear him, ¡°in connection with the, erm, the¡ªthe¡ª¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± asked the Empress impatiently. ¡°The school of stuttering imbeciles?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the seneschal, swallowing. ¡°The assassination attempt.¡±


    The Councilors looked about, murmuring in shock, as the amusement fell away from the Empress¡¯s face, her expression turning grave.


    ¡°Who?¡± she demanded, drawing herself up in her chair. ¡°Who was it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m told it¡¯s a boy from the stables,¡± replied the seneschal. ¡°He was overheard speaking with someone about the alleged assassin and knew not only the man¡¯s profession but also his name. He has been arrested by the men of the guard and is being held in the south tower where he awaits questioning.¡±


    Mouse felt all the blood drain from her face at once, as her fingers dug into the arms of the wooden chair. A boy from the stables, she thought. No, it couldn¡¯t be.


    The Empress¡¯s eyes darkened as she took in the gravity of the news.


    ¡°Very good,¡± she said at last. ¡°Do you know the boy¡¯s name?¡±


    No, thought Mouse. Don¡¯t say it. It can¡¯t be.


    The seneschal¡¯s pause felt like a lifetime as Mouse sat on the edge of her chair, hoping, praying that he would say any other name than the one she feared he would.


    ¡°I believe the boy¡¯s name,¡± said the seneschal, ¡°is Jasper.¡±

 Chapter 22: Where Theres Smoke

    ¡°I need to speak with the Captain,¡± Mouse said in her biggest, bravest, most commanding voice. ¡°It is of a most urgent nature regarding the current investigation.¡±


    The stony-faced guardsman looked back at her, clearly unimpressed.


    ¡°I am afraid the Captain is quite occupied at the moment,¡± he said, looking down at Mouse in a way that somehow made her feel smaller and more unimportant than ever.


    ¡°Please,¡± she said, trying to look past his shoulder and through the grates of the door behind him. ¡°I have information that he needs, information essential to the investigation. I promise you, if you let me speak with him, neither of you will come to regret it.¡±


    The guardsman¡¯s gaze did not falter.


    ¡°There are many people who wish to speak with the Captain,¡± he said, shifting his weight slightly to block Mouse¡¯s view, ¡°but you, like they, will have to wait.¡±


    ¡°I implore you, sir,¡± Mouse persisted. ¡°A moment of his time is all I require.¡±


    The guard look away from her and did not answer her.


    ¡°You cannot understand,¡± she said desperately. ¡°A most monstrous mistake has been made.¡±


    The guard now returned his attention to her.


    ¡°A most monstrous mistake you say?¡±


    Mouse nodded vociferously.


    ¡°In that case,¡± said the guardsman, looking down at her, ¡°you¡¯ll still have to wait.¡±


    Mouse turned away in frustration, huffing as she crossed to the wall just inside the tower entrance and leaning her back against the cool stone.


    Why had she not come sooner? she asked herself, turning her face up to the dark stone ceiling and closing her eyes. Why had she insisted on prying further into the matter rather than going directly to the Captain of the guard the moment Lord Alfric had spoken those dread words?


    If she had, she thought to herself as she let the jagged stone of the wall press into her back, a punishment for her foolishness, Jasper would still be in the stables, and perhaps it would be Johannes who was locked within the cell awaiting the Empress¡¯s justice.


    She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter to try and keep the tears from spilling out, but there was little she could do to stop them.


    She had been a fool, a ghastly one, and now it was Jasper who was being made to pay for it.


    You are not the jewel of Aros, she told herself remorsefully. You are no more than a stupid little mouse, too afraid of her own shadow to do that which you ought.


    The tears rolled down her cheeks one by one as she let her legs fold beneath her, her gown dragging against the ragged wall as she sank to the floor.


    She gathered her knees to her chest, burying her face in them so that no one would see her wretchedness.


    She sat like that for some time, alternating between rueful rumination and a cold determination to make herself heard, until at last, she heard the sound of a key turning and the grated metal door swinging open.


    She looked up, wiping her face with her sleeve, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw none other than Ulrich himself emerge from the door that let into the tower and the long hallway of cells itself.


    She pressed her hands against the wall and pushed herself to her feet at once going to meet the Captain.


    ¡°Jasper is innocent,¡± she said before the door had scarcely had a chance to close behind him. ¡°You must believe me.¡±


    She looked at him with desperate, pleading eyes.


    ¡°Please, Ulrich,¡± she said, her eyes catching the guard at the door before she corrected herself, ¡°Captain.¡±


    Ulrich, his dark blond curls tucked behind his ears, cast a quick glance behind himself, a warning to the guard who stood at the door from which he had just come.


    ¡°The only reason he was speaking of the man from Silver Lake,¡± Mouse continued hurriedly, lest she lose her opportunity, ¡°is because I sent another one of the servants to inquire about him, to inquire about something I heard.¡± She looked into Ulrich¡¯s face, his somber hazel eyes, begging him to understand. ¡°It is my fault,¡± she said, ¡°all of it.¡±


    Mouse could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waited for the Captain to answer. But he only looked down thoughtfully.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t doubt if Jasper had, in fact, never even heard of the man,¡± Mouse added, hoping it might somehow strengthen her argument.


    At last, Ulrich looked back up at her.


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked.


    Mouse looked at him in something of surprise.


    ¡°Why?¡± she echoed.


    ¡°What was the purpose of this inquiry?¡± Ulrich asked, his eyes studying hers.


    It took Mouse a moment to answer, still recovering as she was from the shock of the fact that she had actually been heard and was now being taken seriously.


    ¡°I had reason to believe that someone within these walls, someone at Kriftel, that is, may have had prior dealings with the man,¡± she said.


    ¡°The boullier from Silver Lake,¡± Ulrich clarified.


    Mouse nodded.


    ¡°I had hoped to find whether there might be anything further to substantiate my suspicions, whether anyone else could verify that such dealings had, in fact, occurred.¡±


    The Captain lifted his chin.


    ¡°Who?¡± he asked.


    Mouse swallowed.


    ¡°Who?¡± she echoed nervously.


    ¡°Who did you believe to have had prior dealing with the man from Silver Lake?¡± Ulrich asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.


    Mouse bit her lip.


    Just say it, you fool, she commanded herself. The man may very well want you dead.


    ¡°Lord Johannes,¡± she said with an involuntary shiver, as if just saying the man¡¯s name aloud might summon him.


    ¡°Johannes?¡± the captain asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.


    Mouse nodded and watched as the Captain gave another quick glance behind himself.


    ¡°And what, may I ask, gave rise to these suspicions?¡± he inquired, his voice slightly lowered.


    ¡°It was something Lord Alfric said,¡± Mouse replied, ¡°a message he had asked me to convey to Johannes regarding a saddler from Silver Lake.¡±


    Ulrich furrowed his brow.


    ¡°Alfric,¡± he repeated. ¡°The exiled prince?¡±


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    Mouse nodded. Her heartbeat was finally beginning to slow now that the relief of delivering this intelligence began to replace her former anxiety.


    ¡°Do you remember what his words were?¡± asked the Captain, his brow still knitted together.


    Mouse thought for a moment. She could not swear to Alfric¡¯s exact phrasing, but the words he had spoken that day had been burned into her mind such that she felt confident in achieving a close representation.


    ¡°He said that he was eager for his saddle back,¡± Mouse said slowly, ¡°and that Johannes¡¯s man from Silver Lake was overdue.¡±


    Ulrich released a heavy sigh and shook his head.


    ¡°That is indeed concerning,¡± he said, ¡°and I can see why you might have sought to learn more. However, I do wish that you had come to me first.¡±


    So do I, Mouse thought as lowered her eyes, averting the Captain¡¯s steady gaze. It was just as it had been in Silver Lake, she reflected, when she had asked him about whether the girl Elke might come back with them to Kriftel. He had a way of making her feel ashamed of herself, as though she had somehow disappointed his esteem of her.


    There were a few moments during which neither of them spoke.


    ¡°I will speak with the gentlemen at once,¡± Ulrich said at last. ¡°But in the meantime, I¡¯m afraid that Jasper must remain in custody."


    Mouse made a feeble attempt to smile at this but could not bear to look back at the Captain.


    She was glad she had spoken with him, and gladder still that he seemed to be taking her claims as true and treating them with seriousness, but she could not shake the feelings of shame and regret that still clung to her.


    But suddenly, she realized there was something that she had wanted to ask the Captain.


    ¡°Might I ask who it was that turned Jasper in?¡± she inquired, her eyes lifting once again to meet Ulrich¡¯s.


    But the man shook his head.


    ¡°I am afraid that information belongs to the investigation,¡± he replied grimly, ¡°and as such, it is not something that I can share with you.¡±


    Mouse looked into his face. It was, as Johannes had so aptly described it, beautiful, but sun-warmed as it was, it looked somehow pale and grey in the dim of the tower.


    There was something there, Mouse realized as she studied him, something that he was trying to hide, something that he was trying to suppress.


    She looked at the long lashes that curled away from his eyes, the irises of which were a mixture of brown and green dotted with flecks of gold. There was so much there that he wasn¡¯t telling her.


    ¡°Was it Johannes?¡± Mouse asked, watching him blink at her as she did.


    The Captain set his jaw.


    ¡°I truly am not at liberty to say,¡± he answered.


    ¡°It was, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Mouse asked, the coldness she had initially felt at the notion replaced now by steadily building heat.


    There was a charged moment of silence between them that told Mouse everything she needed to know. A scoff escaped from her lips as she realized just how useless her claims against Johannes might be if was indeed he who had brought Jasper to the guard.


    ¡°I thank you for your assistance in this investigation,¡± the Captain said now, breaking Mouse¡¯s gaze. ¡°Please know that you will likely be called upon again to further the clarify or reiterate the statements that you have made to me just now.¡±


    Mouse nodded and looked away.


    She knew her frustration with the Captain was misplaced; he was doing no more than his duty, and under different circumstances, she might commend him for his impartiality, but she was wounded, in a way, that he would not tell her what she felt she deserved to know.


    ¡°Furthermore,¡± Ulrich continued, ¡°I advise you to be aware that in the course of the forthcoming interviews with the implicated parties, I cannot guarantee that it will not become evident, however unintentionally, that it was you who made testimony against one or both of them.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± said Mouse, unmoved by the Captain¡¯s sudden coldness, ¡°and I willingly accept whatever consequence may precipitate from my actions.¡±


    Mouse could feel Ulrich looking at her, but she was too angry to meet his eye.


    ¡°You do not fear retribution from either of these men?¡± he asked.


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°The worst thing I could imagine has already happened,¡± she said, staring at a drop of water running through the cracks of the damp stone wall.


    It was true. The worst had already happened. She had gotten an innocent man, her friend, incarcerated, and now there was little she could say to undo it. She held her hands behind her back, her fingers flicking agitatedly against one another.


    ¡°Well,¡± sighed Ulrich, ¡°if you should at any point change your mind¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will indeed seek the guard,¡± Mouse said, the words coming out almost sharper than she had intended them to.


    She turned now to look at Ulrich in the hopes of reminding herself that none of this was, in fact, his fault, and was once again met with the feeling that there was much he wished to say but that he would not allow himself.


    ¡°If there is nothing further you wish to tell me,¡± he said at last.


    Mouse shook her head, lowering her eyes once again and turning away, returning to the wall where she had been sat before the Captain had appeared.


    Ulrich, who had himself turned to go, now turned back and furrowed his brow at her.


    ¡°Perhaps it would be best if you return to your chambers,¡± he said. ¡°It may do you well to rest now in case you are called for questioning later.¡±


    Mouse shook her head as she lowered herself back to the floor in the corner where the outer wall met the inner alcove leading into the tower.


    ¡°Thank you, Captain,¡± she said, making herself comfortable upon the cool stone flags, ¡°but I prefer to remain.¡± She loosened her skirts underneath her and resettled herself. ¡°I remember what happened the last time a man was locked in the tower under suspicion of attempted assassination of the Empress.¡±


    Even from several feet away, Mouse could feel Ulrich wince at the words, as she herself did upon realizing just how cruel they had sounded. In truth, she had only meant that Jasper was her friend, and more than that, her responsibility. And if anything further were to happen to him, she would never forgive herself.


    Nothing she had said had been meant as an attack on the Captain or his ability to carry out his duty, but it had certainly come out that way.


    Mouse tried to swallow down the lump in her throat at the realization that she had no doubt just wounded the man, and that given the note their conversation had ended on, he very likely considered it intentional.


    But before she could open her lips to apologize, the Captain spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send two more men round for the door,¡± he said, though Mouse could not be sure whether he was speaking to her or the other guardsman, ¡°two for below, and two more for the outer wall.¡±


    And with that, he left.


    Mouse hugged her knees to her chest, but this time she did not cry. Instead, she lay her head down atop her knees, her cheek pressed against the woven fabric of her gown, and thought to herself.


    She thought of all that had passed since their return from Silver Lake¡ªthe Empress¡¯s cruel japes, the old man¡¯s demented ravings, the Council¡¯s endless bickering. She thought of the golden necklace sitting on a blue velvet pillow and the mallow-less stem in the page girl¡¯s hand.


    And she thought, for the first time since hearing it, of Johannes¡¯s message to the Empress, that he had a gift for her.


    Was Jasper that gift? Mouse found herself wondering. Was the iniquitous nobleman seeking to win back the Empress¡¯s favor by bringing her her enemy¡¯s head?


    The only problem was that Jasper was not the Empress''s enemy, but she supposed that the woman had no way of knowing that. It was a grotesque thought that sent a chill down Mouse¡¯s spine, but try as she might, she could not seem to banish the idea.


    Mouse turned now so that her back was in the corner and her head rested against the side of the wall. She did not want to let the door to the tower out of her sight.


    How small and powerless she felt, sitting there in the corner. And for a brief moment, she allowed herself to consider how things might be different if what Ludger had told her had, in fact, been true.


    She closed her eyes and imagined herself walking into the tower, the guard following behind her, and opening the door to Jasper¡¯s cell, smiling at the thought as a single tear crept out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed it away and tried to imagine what might follow in the wake of Jasper being freed.


    But whatever she had imagined after that, she could not recall, for the next thing, she knew, she was standing once again on Kingfishers¡¯ bridge, watching the mighty Manau flow beneath her. She stared down into the blue coursing waters, placing her hands against the ledge as she leaned slightly forward.


    She turned and looked to the far end of the bridge where the great stone house with a half-moon painted on the door stood. She watched the smoke rise from the chimney, listening for the sound of a voice coming from within.


    Slowly, she began to walk toward it, the smell of smoke tickling her nose as she drew nearer.


    But just as it had been the last two times, before she could reach the house, an arrow flew past her head, and she turned to see the dead man standing in the middle of the bridge, aiming his bow at her.


    ¡°Time to go,¡± he said, a nasty grin upon his lips.


    ¡°Please, do not hurt me!¡± Mouse cried. ¡°I am only a mouse!¡± She reached for her tail to show the man, to prove that she was nothing more than a tiny harmless creature who wanted nothing more than to scurry across the bridge, but once again, she could not seem to find it.


    ¡°Time to go,¡± the man said again, drawing his arm back to loose his arrow as the smell of smoke itched at the inside of Mouse¡¯s nose.


    Mouse woke to the feeling of someone nudging her with their foot. She picked up her head and looked up blearily into the face of the guard who stood above her.


    ¡°Oi,¡± the guardsman looked down at Mouse as she rubbed her nose with her sleeve. ¡°Time to go, I said.¡±


    Mouse straightened her neck, despite its painful protestations to even the slightest movement, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but if the stiffness in her legs was any indication, it had been some hours.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± she asked, blinking at the guard. She was so disoriented that she could not even remember what day it was, but she could see that it was a different man than the one who had been there before.


    ¡°Time to go,¡± came the stern reply.


    Mouse wrinkled her nose and rubbed at it once again before turning to head down the hallway away from the tower. She had been determined not to leave her post, but she now found that she was too tired and out of sorts to argue with the guardsman.


    But before she had gone, she turned back to the guard.


    ¡°Do you smell that?¡± she asked, wondering whether it was still the last remnants of her dream refusing to leave or whether there was really something there.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked unsmilingly.


    Mouse sniffed the air before lifting the hem of her gown to her nose to make certain it was not something clinging to her that was causing the odor. But the scent was unmistakably not her own, and thought it was faint, it was quite distinct.


    Mouse knitted her brow and looked at the guard, wondering if he really could not detect it.


    ¡°It smells like smoke.¡±

 Chapter 23: The Moon As My Witness

    Mouse leaned against the stone of the open window, looking out into the darkness. Had she not been able to guess by the number of stars lighting the night sky, the quietness of the castle and the emptiness of the hallways were enough to tell of the late hour.


    She looked up at the moon, thinking of Adalbert¡¯s tireless efforts to perfect the shape of the still, silvery lake that hung in the sky, never satisfied that the edges were quite round enough or the surface quite smooth enough for his beloved Malte.


    Bucket by bucket he would fill the lake, only to then look upon his work in dissatisfaction, and bucket by bucket he would remove the water, so that he might carve out the edges and smooth down the sides a bit more.


    The moon was half-full now, but whether Adalbert was filling the lake or emptying it, Mouse could not say.


    The night air was warm upon her face as she gazed out of the window, studying first the stars before looking out across the grounds that, though shrouded in darkness, were so familiar to her that she need not see them in the light of day to know where every tree stood and every stone lay.


    Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was time she began planning her escape. She could scale the southern wall and make her way to the piked gate, darting through Sallowman¡¯s alley before disappearing down the cobbled streets of the village outside, just as she had imagined a hundred times.


    No, she thought, she would go to the stables. North she would ride of the back of noble Passavant, on and on and on until at last she crossed the mighty Manau. She would go to Kingfishers¡¯ bridge and find the great stone house that stood beside it, the one with a half-moon painted on the door.


    There, she would find her Foilunder, waiting for her just as he had promised, and never again would she return south.


    All she need do was wait for Jasper to be freed, she thought, and then she might free herself.


    The moon as my witness, she said to herself, I will leave this place, and with it, every wretched thought and painful memory.


    It was a pleasant thought, one that steeled her strength against the tribulations she now faced. And it was with a sigh and a heart made ever so slightly lighter by the notion that she turned away from the window and continued down the hall.


    When she arrived at the door of her chambers, she came in to find a maid replacing the water in her basin.


    She smiled at the woman, who bowed in return, and allowed herself to fall into the silk upholstered chair that stood opposite her table to begin the tiresome task of pulling the pins from her matted hair.


    The maid quickly put down her work things, wiping her hands on her apron, and came to help her.


    ¡°Please, allow me, my lady,¡± she said, taking up the task herself.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mouse said with an appreciative smile, letting her arms fall to her sides.


    Mouse was not always lucky enough to have a maid and was often left to her own preparations. This made her all the more grateful for the woman now, especially seeing as how her long dark tresses had become something of a mess, pressed, as they had been, against the damp ragged stone of the wall where she had fallen asleep earlier.


    Mouse reached across to the table and took up the little tafl piece, holding it in her hands and tracing her thumb along the curve of the bow.


    How far things had come from the way they had been at Silver Lake, she thought to herself. What joys she had known there, and now, what miseries.


    She closed her eyes and tried to remember the way the fog had looked as it clung to the open fields, the way the morning dew had threatened to dampen her shoes as she stood in the bailey with a bow in her hand, waiting for Torben to chance through and call out to her.


    She tried to recall the sound of Elke¡¯s feet pattering lightly against the steps of the keep as she ran down meet her, her tiny fingers straightening the bow of her apron as she crossed to Mouse with a smile.


    She thought of the lake and the trees and the cloudless blue sky. She thought of the Cherith birds flying overhead and dancing about the courtyard. She thought of the pink and purple mallows that sprung up across the field, the place where she had left her fears to die¡ªor so she had told herself.


    It all felt little more than a dream now, a glimpse into a life that would never really be hers.


    She looked up at her reflection in the glass, the dim light casting ghastly shadows beneath her eyes. This was who she really was, not the carefree girl of Silver Lake, but a girl haunted by her own foolishness, a girl trapped in a world where the only thing worse than the thought of someone coming for your head was the idea that they might take your friend¡¯s first.


    Perhaps she had it all wrong, though, Mouse entertained. Perhaps the arrows loosed upon them at Silver Lake had not been meant for her as Ludger had led her to believe.


    And perhaps Johannes was not trying to cover some evil misdeed, some plot to harm her, but was only trying to teach her a lesson and would soon call the whole thing off.


    After all, what reason could the nobleman have to wish her dead? It was nearly as absurd as the idea of him wishing harm to the Empress herself.


    But still, try as she might, she could not forget the look of shock she had seen on the nobleman¡¯s face when she had returned from Silver Lake, as if he had been surprised to see her¡ªsurprised to see her alive, a voice in the back of her mind whispered¡ªand the eeriness it now conjured was enough to send a chill down her spine.


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    Mouse reached across and placed the tafl piece back upon the table, staring at it, watching the way the shape of the thing seemed to change in the flickering light. At one moment, it appeared strange and misshapen, distorted by the shadows that sprung up around it, as if it were some grisly, graven creature, while the next moment, the wood glowed softly, the same familiar shape that brought her comfort every time she held it.


    It was while she watched this transformation take place that something suddenly occurred to her, something she had been too distracted to notice earlier.


    Her brow knit itself together as she turned her gaze to the hearth that stood on the near side of the room.


    ¡°Why has the fire been lit?¡± she asked, addressing the maid who was still busy wresting the pins from the tangles of her hair.


    The maid crossed to the table and dropped a pin into the tray.


    ¡°In case of a draft, my lady,¡± she replied, coming now to Mouse¡¯s other side.


    But it¡¯s the middle of summer, thought Mouse. Were not many in the castle still sleeping with their windows open this time of year?


    Mouse stared into the flames licking brightly against the walls of the hearth.


    ¡°Have all the fires been lit?¡± she asked, the wheels of her mind trying to work out why her hearth that had stood many weeks empty should now suddenly be alight.


    ¡°As far as I know, my lady,¡± the maid replied, replacing the last of the pins into the tray and looking for a comb.


    A strange feeling of unease was beginning to tease at the corners of Mouse¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Who gave the order?¡± she asked, watching the maid in the glass as she lifted a scrap of blue linen and took up the comb she found lying beneath it.


    ¡°I beg your pardon, my lady?¡± the maid said as she brought the comb over to Mouse¡¯s hair.


    ¡°To have the fires lit,¡± replied Mouse. ¡°Who gave the order?¡±


    ¡°The chamberlain, like as not,¡± the maid answered with a shrug, tugging her comb carefully through Mouse¡¯s hair. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid I do not know, my lady.¡±


    Of course she did not know, Mouse chided herself. A handmaiden would not be the one to light the fires. But still, she had the sense that something was not right.


    She had stood herself at the window not long ago, feeling the warm summer air on her face without so much as a breeze to disrupt it.


    ¡°Please forgive me if this is rather an odd question,¡± Mouse said with a nervous laugh, ¡°but there are no apartments near the south tower, are there? No living quarters where the fires might be lit?¡±


    Mouse watched the maid in the glass as she paused to think for a moment, trying to swallow down the sense of dread that was beginning to rise inside her chest.


    ¡°None that I know of, my lady,¡± she said. ¡°That is, I cannot say whether or not a fire might be lit, but¡ª"


    Mouse lifted her hand to the maid¡¯s, staying her comb.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said, ¡°but I¡¯m afraid I must go.¡±


    By the time Mouse arrived at the south tower, her heart was all but racing. The smell of smoke had grown so strong that there was no denying that a fire had been lit, and had Mouse¡¯s worst fears not been confirmed by the sight of the delicate grey tendrils drifting out from the door to the tower itself, they certainly were by the bell that began now to ring.


    A dozen or so guard stood a few feet away, their lack of urgency hinting, or so Mouse hoped, that all within the tower had already been safely removed.


    ¡°Where is Jasper?¡± Mouse asked, running up to the first guardsman she was able to reach. ¡°The stable boy who was in the tower. Is he alright?¡±


    The guardsman shook her hand away in annoyance, immune to the desperation in her voice.


    ¡°It¡¯s not for me to say,¡± he replied in perturbation. ¡°If you¡¯ve questions, you can take them to the Captain.¡±


    Mouse turned and looked about, searching the men¡¯s faces for Ulrich¡¯s, but she could not find him. She was about to prevail her nuisance upon the guard a second time, when at last, she saw him walking slowly down the hallway, engaged in conversation with a man appearing to be Lord Rambert.


    She took a few anxious steps in their direction, eager for the soonest opportunity to make her inquiry but wary of interrupting, until the Marshal seemed to take notice of her and shortly after made his exit.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Mouse asked, running up to the Captain the moment the Marshal had gone. ¡°Is he alive?¡±


    ¡°I can only assume you mean Jasper,¡± Ulrich replied. ¡°In which case, I can confirm that he is indeed alive and that he has been removed to a location where he will remain safe.¡±


    Moused allowed herself a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Does anyone else know where he is?¡± she asked, casting a glance over her shoulder at the group of guards who stood talking near the tower entrance.


    ¡°Certainly my men know,¡± Ulrich replied.


    Mouse nodded. She supposed that must be allowed, or there would be no one to watch the boy. She twisted her fingers together nervously.


    ¡°Can you be certain that he is safe where he is?¡± she pressed. ¡°Given the obvious attempt you have just witnessed on his life.¡±


    Ulrich¡¯s hazel eyes fixed themselves upon Mouse¡¯s.


    ¡°Has it not occurred you,¡± he said, ¡°that the fire might just as likely have been started with an object of freeing the boy as killing him?¡±


    Mouse scoffed and shook her head.


    ¡°But he is not free, is he?¡± she protested.


    ¡°Nor is he dead,¡± replied the Captain.


    Mouse let out another sigh, but this was one of frustration.


    ¡°You cannot really believe that there is any question as to Jasper¡¯s innocence, can you?¡± she asked. ¡°He is a stable boy who has been all his life at Kriftel. His mother is a scullery here, for god¡¯s sake. You cannot tell me you think him some sort of conspirator.¡±


    She looked into Ulrich¡¯s face, hoping the man might see reason.


    ¡°It does not matter what I think,¡± he answered. ¡°All that matters is what can be proven, either to forward his guilt or abolish it.¡±


    An incredulous laugh escaped Mouse¡¯s lips.


    ¡°So, your stubborn pride will not allow that you have taken an innocent man into custody under the word of a scoundrel and a liar and that every moment you hold him captive only serves to increase the threat upon his life?¡±


    Mouse could see Ulrich¡¯s jaw clench under the maintenance of his forbearance. She was pushing him further than she knew she should, but could not help but speak her mind. After all, it might be the very thing to stay Jasper from the gallows.


    ¡°The truth will come to light one way or another,¡± the Captain said. ¡°It may take time, but if Jasper is innocent, he has little to fear.¡±


    ¡°Little to fear?¡± cried Mouse, her voice rising in indignation. ¡°He is a stable boy! He has everything to fear and everything to lose!¡±


    She looked at the Captain and shook her head.


    It was so painfully apparent to Mouse that whoever had seen to the dead man from Silver Lake was at work once again and would not stop until the stable boy had met a similar end. How Ulrich himself could fail to see that was entirely beyond her comprehension.


    ¡°What would you have me do?¡± the Captain asked.


    ¡°Free him,¡± said Mouse at once. ¡°Free him before it is too late.¡±


    The Captain sighed.


    ¡°You know I cannot do that,¡± he said.


    ¡°No,¡± said Mouse, ¡°you will not.¡±


    Ulrich looked at her, his countenance immovable, but Mouse could see something in his gold-flecked eyes, something he was hiding.


    What was it? she wondered as she studied his face. It looked almost something like pain, perhaps, or sorrow.


    Or maybe, she wondered, it was frustration she saw there, tucked into the lines around his eyes, guilt and anger, like that which she carried herself. Helplessness.


    She looked at Ulrich long and hard, until she felt she could not any longer, and then, unanswered, she turned and left.


    Mouse was tired of being small and powerless. She was tired of being full of anger and torment. She was tired of suffering and watching others suffer.


    She was tired of being Mouse.


    Perhaps, she thought as she walked down the long, dim hallway, it was time to become someone else.

 Chapter 24: The Thin Divide

    Mouse stood at the window, watching the sun begin to make its slow ascent above the horizon. The pale grey of the morning began to fade, reluctantly relinquishing its reign of the earth to gentle shades of pink and lilac. Mouse could hear birdsong carrying across the fields as the otherwise still world began to wake.


    Sleep had not found her that night, though she had little sought it. Her mind was too occupied with thoughts and questions that swirled through her mind, threatening to drive her mad. She had therefore spent many of the hours past midnight wandering around the keep, dragging her feet across the flagging like some sort of ghost, a spirit too tormented to find rest.


    At last, she had relented to the idea that there was likely only one person in the whole of the castle to whom she might speak openly about her present troubles, only one person whose counsel might offer any sort of reprieve from the chaos of her mind.


    It was a person she had been avoiding, and whom she had hoped she had rid herself of relying upon. Yet here she was, once again, sitting in the chair across from the old man as he drew his hand across a long sheet of parchment.


    Mouse had not expected to find him awake at this time of day, yet she had been let in almost at once upon knocking to find the old man at his desk. He was not, as he often was, carrying his hand across the parchment in a hurried script but was instead tending to the letters upon the page in an almost painstaking fashion.


    He looked nearly like some ancient scribe, thought Mouse, poring over his work by candlelight in his chambers that were only now beginning to come alight with the morning sun.


    ¡°What are you writing?¡± Mouse at last ventured to ask, looking at the long white hairs that sprouted from the old man¡¯s ears, the bushy brows that hung over his eyes.


    ¡°Kuno of Yarbruck,¡± he replied, using one hand to hold his sleeve away from the ink as the other dipped his pen. ¡°The Ire of Edephus.¡±


    Mouse drew her brow together.


    ¡°You already have that one,¡± she said, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the delicate letters crossing the page. ¡°Why make another?¡±


    ¡°The Arosian court¡¯s Master of Tomes already has it,¡± the old man answered without looking up from his work, ¡°but I do not.¡±


    ¡°But you are the Arosian court¡¯s Master of Tomes,¡± Mouse said with a laugh.


    ¡°For now,¡± Ludger sighed, pausing his pen for a moment in appraisal of what he had written, ¡°but when I am no longer, the tome will remain with the court, and I should like to have my own copy.¡± He dipped his pen into the ink, blotting it gently before putting it to the parchment once again. ¡°That way I might pass on to someone of my choosing,¡± he said. ¡°A pupil perhaps, granted I am able to find one less¡ª¡± he paused, ¡°¡ªtempestuous than the last.¡±


    Tempestuous? Mouse scoffed. Certainly he could not mean her. Just because she had stormed out of the old man¡¯s chambers, struck a nobleman in the face, and picked a fight with the captain of the guard, that did not make her tempestuous.


    But as much as Mouse wanted to make some sort of reply to the old man¡¯s slight, to defend herself against it, she decided she had better bite her tongue and hold her silence, at least for the time.


    ¡°Well?¡± the old man said after some minutes of silence, at last laying down his pen and looking across the desk at Mouse. ¡°I assume you have not come here merely to supervise my transcription.¡±


    Mouse looked down into her lap and swallowed.


    ¡°You have, no doubt, heard about Jasper,¡± she began, ¡°the stable boy who has been taken into custody under suspicion of conspiracy against the crown?¡±


    ¡°I have indeed,¡± the old man replied, leaning back into his chair. ¡°He stands under accusation of conspiring to assassinate the Empress of the Arosian Empire.¡±


    Mouse grimaced at the old man¡¯s words, a pang of guilt coursing through her.


    ¡°Is there something of the matter you wish to discuss?¡± Ludger asked.


    ¡°He is innocent,¡± Mouse said quickly. ¡°There can be no doubt about that.¡± She paused as the old man inclined his head in agreement. ¡°But there is something else in the whole thing that has been bothering me,¡± she said.


    She pressed her hands together, taking a deep breath as she tried to gather the nerve to ask the question she longed to hear the answer to.


    ¡°Well,¡± she said slowly, finding it difficult to produce the words, ¡°I find I have had some trouble shaking from my mind a notion which you have planted there.¡± She looked at the old man¡¯s cool grey eyes. ¡°That is, that the assassin may have been seeking to kill me rather than the Empress.¡±


    The old man nodded, and when Mouse gave him a questioning look, he explained, saying,


    ¡°If nothing else, I stand by my claims that only a blind man could possibly mistake the two of you when seated on horseback,¡± he shook his head, ¡°and blind the man from Silver Lake was certainly not.¡±


    Mouse felt her chest grow hot. She knew the old man would not contradict his previous statements, but still, she had hoped that he might, that there had been some sort of misunderstanding between them.


    ¡°But why?¡± she asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion and dismay. ¡°Why should anyone wish me dead?¡±


    The old man¡¯s grey eyes twinkled in the morning light spilling in from the window.


    ¡°I cannot assume the murderer¡¯s motives,¡± he said, lacing his fingers together and resting them over the bulge of his belly, ¡°but I do not doubt that whatever they may be, they stem from a knowledge of who you are.¡±


    ¡°Who I am?¡± Mouse asked, swallowing down the lump that had begun to form in her throat.


    The old man looked at her, his eyes piercing through her reluctance.


    ¡°Owing to your parentage,¡± he said, ¡°there may be those who wish to eliminate you, either because you are seen to represent the crown and all that goes with it or because you threaten it.¡±


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°So you still purport this story of yours, that I am a much closer relative of the Empress than what I have been known to be my entire life,¡± she said, more as a question than a statement.


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    The old man smiled.


    ¡°I have not changed my mind in regard to from whose womb you sprang,¡± he said, ¡°largely because I was there to see it for myself.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise.


    ¡°The fact that it makes you uncomfortable,¡± the old man said, ¡°does not make it any less true.¡±


    Mouse sat quietly, trying to understand how any of what the old man told her could be true. Her eyes went to the portrait of the former Emperor that hung on the wall near the bookshelf. He was young and handsome, the hint of a smile dancing on his lips, breathing life into an otherwise somber face.


    ¡°Were you close to him?¡± Mouse asked softly, her eyes following the brushstrokes that carried the Emperor¡¯s hair from the crown of his head to his shoulders.


    ¡°Quite close,¡± Ludger said, ¡°though there were some years between us.¡± His own eyes now went to the portrait. ¡°My own brothers and sisters were lost to the red finger,¡± he said, ¡°just as his were.¡±


    Mouse looked at the old man, noting a sadness in his eyes she had never seen before. She studied his face.


    How old was he, really? she wondered. Old enough to see three different rulers sit the throne of Aros, if not four, and old enough to know a good deal more than Mouse about such matters that she now pondered.


    He turned to fix his grey eyes back on Mouse.


    ¡°What else would you like to know?¡± he asked, an almost uncharacteristic gentleness in his tone. ¡°What would you like me to tell you?¡±


    Mouse swallowed.


    She had not resolved herself to believe everything the old man said, but she had decided at least to hear him, to see if she could discern herself if there might not be some truth in his words. She was surprised by how patient he was being with her now. Perhaps, she thought, he had been waiting for her all this time, waiting for her to come around to reason.


    She drew a deep breath.


    ¡°Tell me a story,¡± she said, drawing herself up in her chair to look the old man squarely in the eye. ¡°Tell me a story about a girl who lived her life believing she was one thing only to find out she was another.¡± She rubbed her fingers nervously along the carved arms of the chair. ¡°A girl who thought things were one way and woke up one day to realize that they were not.¡±


    The old man considered her, his grey eyes becoming vivid and lively as he tugged at one of the long white whiskers that sprouted from his chin.


    ¡°If you will allow me,¡± he said thoughtfully, ¡°I should like to start at the beginning.¡±


    Mouse nodded her assent and braced herself in her chair for the coming words that she knew would be like to rattle her.


    The old man closed his eyes and leaned his head back for a few moments.


    ¡°You came into the world,¡± he began, returning his gaze to an uneasy Mouse, ¡°at a time when the Arosian Empire was at odds with itself. Emperor Lothar had recently wed a young woman of Ahnderland, Elke, daughter of Queen Filipa, and in doing so, joined the nation of Ahnderland to the Empire.¡±


    Mouse nodded. None of this was yet news to her.


    ¡°This union, however,¡± Ludger continued, ¡°was ill-received by many, both of the upper classes and the lower, on both sides. In fact, it had been opposed not only by most of the Emperor¡¯s High Councilors and the Arosian court, but most of Elke¡¯s own people had been against the marriage as well.


    ¡°You see, many Arosians were upset that the Emperor did not marry a Toth; that, of course, would be no surprise to anyone. But they might have more easily forgiven these subverted expectations were it not for the unease they felt at the growing opposition on the other side.¡±


    Mouse shifted in her seat, her curiosity piqued by the telling of what she considered a familiar tale being told from a different perspective.


    ¡°Ahnderland had been weakened substantially by the Iskian Wars. One side constantly pillaged their villages and raided their fields while the other razed them so that they could not be used by their enemies.¡±


    The old man shook his head, his brow knit together.


    ¡°It was a terrible thing,¡± he said, ¡°to watch them suffer such devastation for a war of which they were not even a part. Their own army was all but decimated by constant invasion and their economy had all but collapsed. So when Emperor Lothar approached Queen Filipa with an offer to join her kingdom to his own, she felt she had little choice.¡±


    Ludger held out his hands in front of him.


    ¡°The Queen could either cling to her nation¡¯s independence,¡± he said, lifting one hand, ¡°in the hopes that in time, they might slowly claw their way back to economic prosperity. Or,¡± he raised his other hand, ¡°she could sacrifice this independence and guarantee her people¡¯s survival.¡±


    Mouse chewed her lip as she pondered this.


    ¡°Naturally,¡± the old man continued, ¡°many of those in Ahnderland were not prepared to give up their independence just because it was what the Queen had decided. They had no wish to pledge fealty to an Arosian Emperor, and they made no efforts to hide such sentiments.¡±


    He once again laced his fingers together and placed them back over his stomach.


    ¡°In fact, Elke¡¯s brother, whom you know as Lord Marius, was one of the most vehement adversaries of this plan.¡±


    The old man paused for a moment, allowing Mouse to take in all that he had said.


    Though she was well-versed in the Empire¡¯s history, thanks in large part to Ludger¡¯s instruction, there were details in his telling of it now that she had not known before.


    ¡°The crown,¡± the old man continued after some moments of reflection, ¡°was therefore not only under a great deal of pressure to justify the union of Lothar and Elke, to prove Queen Filipa¡¯s decision the correct one and spare her her people¡¯s ire, but due to mounting tensions among the ruling classes and the constant fear of rebel forces in Ahnderland rising up to act upon their disapproval, the royal family of Aros found itself under constant threat.


    ¡°Marius, the would-be heir to the throne of Ahnderland, had been so strongly and vocally opposed to his sister¡¯s marriage, that many watched for his supporters to come and reclaim the woman by force.¡±


    The old man paused again, this time looking closely into Mouse¡¯s face. He was preparing, she could tell, to tell her something that would not be easy to hear. She swallowed and wrapped her fingers around the arms of the chair.


    ¡°Your birth,¡± Ludger began now slowly, ¡°and your sister¡¯s, unlike most of those born into your station, was, mercifully, a private one. Your mother¡¯s being from Ahnderland meant that she was able to spare you the spectacle of a typical royal birth. Few were in attendance,¡± the old man stroked his chin in thought. ¡°A midwife, a surgeon, a nurse,¡± he paused, ¡°myself, and a few other close friends.¡±


    Mouse felt her stomach begin to stir upon hearing of her own birth being described thusly.


    ¡°The birth of two twin girls,¡± the old man shook his head, ¡°many might have seen as some sort of omen, a portent of doom to be feared and perhaps even¡ª¡± He paused, turning his eyes away from Mouse¡¯s. ¡°¡ªnullified,¡± he said, the word settling into Mouse¡¯s stomach like a pit.


    ¡°But to your father,¡± the old man quickly went on, ¡°to welcome two daughters into the world when he might have only had one was something of a miracle.¡± A bittersweet smile turned his lips. ¡°Your mother¡¯s parting gift to him before leaving this world.¡±


    Mouse felt the unbidden tears begin to prick at her eyes. It was still difficult to entertain the notion that Emperor Lothar and Elke of Ahnderland might be her parents, but there was something very sad in it, to remember once again that she would never know the woman who gave birth to her.


    ¡°Lothar made a decision that day,¡± the old man said, his own grey eyes seeming to have become a bit misty, ¡°that he would not waste that gift. He would hide it away from the world, cherish it in private.¡±


    He sighed.


    ¡°And so, one child was given to the crown,¡± he said, ¡°to live and die for the glory of Aros. And the other,¡± he nodded his head toward Mouse, ¡°was given a very different sort of life.¡±


    Mouse looked down at her lap in discomfort.


    ¡°Lothar knew that it is by grace alone that Kings and Emperors live,¡± Ludger went on somberly, ¡°and it gave him comfort to think that should anything happen to himself and his family in the difficult days that followed the joining of Ahnderland to Aros and the death of his beloved Elke, the Empire would not be left without an heir.¡±


    Following this, the old man fell quiet, leaving Mouse to ponder all that he had said. It was fantastical in a way, she thought, almost unbelievable, but not entirely.


    She had been stunned by what she had heard, and it took her some moments to gather herself to speak.


    ¡°Why tell me know?¡± she asked, shaking her head as she looked into the old man¡¯s grey eyes. ¡°Why tell me at all?¡±


    Ludger smiled at her and lifted his shoulders.


    ¡°There was never going to be a right time to tell you,¡± he said. ¡°There never can be with this sort of thing.¡±


    A small laugh escaped Mouse lips. She could not be more in agreement with the old man there.


    ¡°But there may come a day,¡± Ludger said, ¡°when you find that your empire needs you. It is my prayer, just as it was your father¡¯s, that that is a call you will be prepared to answer if and when that day comes.¡±


    Mouse tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry.


    ¡°After all, it is a thin divide,¡± the old man said, his grey eyes glistening from under his thick white brows, ¡°between the Empress who wears the crown and the other way around.¡±

 Chapter 25: Northbound

    Mouse lifted her hand and drew back the blue velvet curtain that hung from the carriage window while the other went to the back of her neck. Drops of sweat slid down her skin in the oppressive warmth of the upholstered interior, tickling her neck in turn with the beads that had been draped from the back of her crown.


    The pattering of rain against the roof of the carriage was finally beginning to slow, but the cabin, cramped and covered as it was in velvet cushions and tasseled drapes, remained uncomfortably warm.


    Mouse tugged at the fabric of her gown, trying to fan out her skirts, but the thick brocade was stiff and heavy, and yielded little to her efforts. So instead, she reached down, searching for her foot beneath the voluminous folds of her dress, and pried off first one shoe and then the other before laying her head back and closing her eyes in momentary relief.


    Across from Mouse sat Lady Agatha, her eyes closed as her head rested against the side of the carriage. Her cheeks were pink from the heat as she slumbered, but the girl stirred little, even when the carriage lurched or the wheels bounced through a rut in the road.


    Agatha had done little more than cry and whimper the first hour following their departure, but must have tired quickly of her own wretchedness, for it was not long after they passed over the border of Loquin that she had fallen asleep.


    Mouse was grateful for silence that followed, for she could not bear the girl¡¯s incessant whinging any more than Agatha herself could bear the cause of it.


    Mouse looked out the window now across the gloomy landscape. The first part of their journey had been characterized by a steady fall of rain, which intensified briefly as they neared the Fjaelles, but now, as they continued through the pass, had lessened to little more than a drizzle.


    The ensuing fog clung thickly to the roads, and the carriages were necessarily slowed to a pace that might allow them to stay on the path without accidentally veering into the grassy plains on either side.


    Mouse leaned her head against the window, peering out at the thick grey clouds that enveloped the surrounding landscape. Every rut and puddle, every loose stone upon the road seemed to jostle the entire carriage, making it impossible for her to find sleep.


    Perhaps, she thought, if she were to become engaged to some bumbling, garishly dressed Councilor like Lady Agatha was, she too would be able to cry herself to sleep no matter where she sat.


    But instead, she found her mind drifting elsewhere.


    Her recent conversations with Ludger had given her much to contemplate. Though she still found much of what he said too fantastical to be believed, she decided that she could allow that Emperor Lothar might have, in fact, had two daughters instead of only one as everyone seemed to think; it would certainly not be the first time she had heard of such a thing.


    Of course there was the tale of Beorhtric, the forgotten prince who had been taken away and hidden in the Zauberwald only to come back some years later and save his kingdom from the dastardly Widukind. Though that was likely only as true as all the other tales told to Arosian children.


    But Mouse could still not allow that Ludger¡¯s story, even if it was based in fact, was about her.


    No, it was simply too ridiculous to believe. Besides, Mouse¡¯s life was already enough of a farce as it was.


    She had been prepared, excited even, to greet the Chatti delegation, for she had made a study of the Chatti lands and the history of the people there. But their arrival had been further forestalled by recent events, and they would now, Mouse lamented, be welcomed by a court that seemed indifferent at best to receive them.


    But more troubling to her than this was that Jasper was still held in confinement somewhere within Kriftel, while a would-be murderer roamed the halls.


    The south tower had burned for three days before the last of the embers were suffocated by the rain, and though Mouse had sought the Captain daily, she was met with little more than a wall of silence and given no further information into the proceedings of his investigation.


    There had to be something she could do, she thought to herself as she stared out of the window and into the heavy mist that enveloped the mountains. Perhaps the answer would come to her here in the mountains, where she was far enough from the ugliness and corruption of the court that seemed to blind all those within it to reason.


    Though the day was dark and the landscape severe, it was beautiful in an otherworldly sort of way, thought Mouse. There was a certain romance in the way the grey skies loomed ominously, the heavy clouds crowding in closely to the white-capped peaks of the Fjaelles as the conifers that covered the mountains poked their green heads up through the mist.


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    But after a time, the sky began to clear, the sun drying up fog that had hampered their passage and the dark wall of clouds that had clung to the horizon breaking apart into bright white plumes that dotted the heavens. And much to Mouse¡¯s great discomfort at being jostled to and fro, the horses were once again allowed to take up a brisk pace.


    As they drew nearer Pothes Mar, the ridges of the mountains began to slowly dwindle, and Mouse now found that she could begin to make out the Yar. It cut through the landscape like a thread of blue ribbon weaving through the plush green glens and dales of the lower peaks.


    It was no wonder that Pothes Mar had been among the first settlements in Aros; the surrounding land was not only breathtaking in its beauty, but had all the defensive advantages afforded by the Fjaelles while the Yar accommodated travel and trade.


    It had begun as little more than a small mountain keep built into the side of the Fjaelles, maintained by the taxes collected for travel along the Yar, and had been of great strategic significance in the early days of Aros, when what was now an empire was no more than a small kingdom.


    However, in time, the mountain fortress fell somewhat out of use, and the seat of power for the region, called Pothes Mar after the original structure, had been rebuilt upon the plains that lay at the foothills of the mountains. Here a massive castle had been constructed, and the surrounding village and structures had continued to grow.


    The original Pothes Mar still stood on the side of the mountains, but now served only as a watchtower.


    Mouse leaned forward, craning her neck to search the mountains for the small keep, but could not seem to find it. However, she did notice that just ahead on the horizon, buildings were beginning to spring up on either side of the road. They must be drawing near, she realized with a mix of relief and satisfaction.


    She glanced over at the sleeping Agatha and wondered if she should wake her, but the girl looked so angelic in her repose, her eyelashes fluttering gently upon her cheeks as she dreamed, that Mouse did not dare rouse her.


    Besides, Mouse reminded herself, as she looked ahead to see if she could catch sight of the training ground, Agatha was not like to find the landscape as interesting as she did.


    Pothes Mar, lorded over by General Ralist, was feal to its master in more ways than one. The area was frequented by knights and high-ranking members of the army, even hosting military exercises from time to time, and as such, some of the best smiths and weapons makers in the Empire could be found in the area.


    Smithing and combat tutelage were a profitable business, and much of what the General collected in taxes he returned in the form of extensive training grounds that covered an ever-increasing portion of the surrounding area.


    Mouse could just begin to see the edge of the training grounds that stretched out toward the Yar. Low walls and mock battlements had been erected in the fields in one area, while another area, further still, looked as though it formed an archery butt.


    Mouse wondered if she might be allowed to walk the fields, if only to watch the men at practice.


    The real reason that Mouse had been sent to Pothes Mar was to draw eyes away from the capital, so that Lord Marius might make his approach unharried. But there was the added advantage of the place having been selected as a seat of contest for those men of the Empire wishing to enter the coming tournament.


    Though the Empress¡¯s notion of allowing anyone to enter the tournament had been met with initial resistance, it was proving to be something of a success. The requirement that one must be able to prove their Toth heritage weeded out a great number of people, not because the Empire was not crawling with Toths, but because lineage was a difficult thing to prove for anyone not of the noble class.


    Things therefore proceeded quickly to a contest of skill, and this was the purported reason given for Mouse¡¯s coming; she would appear not as herself, but as the Empress, to oversee the preliminary challenges, until such a time as Marius had safely been settled at Kriftel.


    The timing was not ideal, thought Mouse, as something that looked like the edge of the curtain wall began to come into view, but could not deny that a part of her was eager to see to the charge she had been given.


    Mouse loved to watch tournaments. Archery, of course, was her favorite, and though at times she found herself becoming squeamish at the violence of the other disciplines, on the whole, she found them thrilling.


    The best part, she thought, was when a true combatant entered the arena, a man who had not only swung a blade in front of an audience, but one who had tried himself in battle. They would always come up against some shining lord or knight who had never tasted their own blood and crash down upon them like a wave tearing at the shore.


    It must be humbling, Mouse thought, to meet such a foe. And there were a good many nobles who could do with being humbled.


    The castle walls now rose up faster and faster in front of them, and it was not long until they were stopped at the moat, waiting for the bridge to be let down.


    ¡°Are we there yet?¡± Lady Agatha yawned, stretching her arms out in front of her as the carriage began to clatter across the planks of the bridge.


    ¡°See for yourself,¡± Mouse said with a smile, nodding to the window.


    Lady Agatha drew the curtain aside and looked out into the bailey where men at arms and half-clad knights stood about, horses and wagons crowding their path.


    ¡°Gods be good,¡± Agatha murmured, ¡°have you ever seen so many fine looking men?¡±


    Mouse allowed a small laugh to escape her lips.


    She had invited Agatha in the hopes that leaving the capital would provide the girl with a much needed change of scenery and distract her from the woes of her engagement to the dreadful Lord Hildimar. And thus far, her plan seemed to be working; it was no longer clear whether the girl¡¯s cheeks were pink from heat or from excitement.


    Much of the caravan had stopped upon entering the wall, but Mouse¡¯s own carriage pressed on through the crowd until it at last drew up to the keep, rolling to a stop.


    Mouse''s excitement at seeing the training fields had now turned into an agitation of nerves at the idea of presenting herself to the General and his ladywife.


    She wiggled her feet back into her shoes and nervously straightened her skirts before turning to Lady Agatha.


    ¡°How do I look?¡± she asked, her stomach fluttering as she waited for an answer that would be more favorable than she felt.


    Agatha reached across, her slender fingers delicately tucking a loose strand of hair into the band of the crown that sat pressed into Mouse''s dark hair, before sitting back and considering her.


    ¡°Like royalty,¡± she said with a smile.

 Chapter 26: The Fields of Pothes Mar

    Mouse had not been certain what to expect upon her arrival at Pothes Mar, but it was certainly not the reception she had expected. There was little heraldry and hardly any ceremony, and moreover, what had shocked Mouse most was that the Lord and Lady of the castle had not been present.


    She had studied the portraits of Lord Ralist and his wife, Lady Margarethe at length prior to her visit so that there would not be any mistaking them among the other members of their household, and so it was with certainty that she could confirm, even before being told as much, that they were not in attendance to receive her.


    Instead, she was greeted by a tall, handsomely dressed man with an angular face and dark blond hair. She did not recognize him as any familial connection of Lord Ralist and hoped that he would identify himself so that she would not be left floundering for his name.


    ¡°Have you any idea who that person is?¡± she had whispered to Bo, who stood at her shoulder as the man approached.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the guardsman had replied, ¡°but he looks like a knight. Sir something-or-other, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Bo,¡± Mouse had sighed. ¡°That¡¯s very helpful.¡±


    Mouse had brought with her a retinue of servants and men-at-arms, altogether forming a household of just over one hundred. Only Agatha had been of her choosing, a decision she hoped she would not come to regret, but she had been glad to find that Bo had volunteered himself.


    Even if he had not yet proven himself particularly useful, he was one of the few people Mouse felt she could trust, despite the fact that he remained close to the Empress. It spoke well of him, Mouse thought, that his relationship with the sovereign, whatever it may be, did not seem to have any effect on his steadfast manner and amiable disposition. She only hoped that that would not change in time.


    As the man now drew near enough to drop into a low bow before Mouse, she could see that Bo had been right. He bore a crest, and his tunic was a fine dark red trimmed in silver thread, betraying the wealth afforded by his status.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the man said, ¡°on behalf of the Lord and Lady of my house, along with the men and women of Pothes Mar, loyal subjects all, I bid you a most gracious welcome. We pledge to you our swords and service, vowing to defend the Empire against all those who might rise against her and promising to seek out every injustice that may threaten her peace.¡±


    ¡°May the Empire return to you in health and prosperity all that which you have in good faith sown,¡± Mouse replied to the man whose hair fell against the sides of his face.


    ¡°We remain feal to you, our Empress, in both thought and deed,¡± he said.


    ¡°Rise, sir, and receive the thanks of your sovereign,¡± Mouse said, extending her hand to touch the man gently on the shoulder.


    It was strange, she thought, to have a man address his fealty to her, even if it was not really directed toward her. Now she was left with the unpleasant task of discovering the his name without giving herself away.


    ¡°My Lord and Lady are humbled to receive you, Your Majesty,¡± the man said, straightening himself to reveal a tall, dignified figure.


    And yet they do not come themselves, Mouse thought to herself.


    ¡°Pray, where are Lord Ralist and Lady Margarethe?¡± she asked as the man began to lead her up the steps of the keep, her guard trailing behind her.


    The man seemed to pause and consider how best to answer before making his reply.


    ¡°Lady Margarethe is in her rooms,¡± he said carefully. ¡°She is in something of a delicate condition.¡±


    It took Mouse a minute to gather his meaning.


    ¡°Oh!¡± she said. ¡°Is it too soon to offer my congratulations?¡±


    The knight allowed himself a measured smile.


    ¡°I should think not, Your Majesty,¡± he said, leading her over the threshold and into the hall of the castle.


    Mouse looked up and marveled at the tall ceilings of the keep, the walls decorated with arms and lavish hangings.


    ¡°And what of the General,¡± she asked, craning her neck to admire the coats nearly too high for her to make out. ¡°That is, what of Lord Ralist?¡± she corrected herself, turning her attention back to the knight.


    The man shifted uneasily, betraying a certain reluctance to answer.


    ¡°I believe he is on the training fields, Your Majesty,¡± he said.


    Mouse raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew that she was not the Empress, but the General certainly had no reason to suspect she was not. And yet, he could not bother himself to come in from the fields to meet her.


    It was impertinent at best, thought Mouse, and at worst, showed a concerning lack of respect for the crown.


    ¡°Very well,¡± she sighed. ¡°Please take me to him, Sir¡ª¡± She looked inquiringly at the red-clad knight.


    ¡°Conrad, Your Majesty,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Sir Conrad,¡± Mouse repeated with a smile.


    The knight, for all his dignified appearance, now shifted uneasily.


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    ¡°Are you certain Your Majesty would not prefer to see your rooms, refresh yourself from your long travels?¡± he asked. ¡°Lady Signy would be more than happy to show you around the castle.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Sir Conrad,¡± Mouse said, reminding herself to keep her chin lifted and her shoulders low, ¡°but I have come a very long way, and I should like to see the man whose hospitality I am prevailing upon.¡±


    She knew it was not the answer Sir Conrad had been hoping for, but she was not about to let the General shirk his duties because of what she now was beginning to suspect was a disinclination to meet her.


    Mouse had studied not only the General and his ladywife¡¯s portraits, but had learned everything she could about them, including their familial connections, their unsavory habits, and even their favorite desserts.


    The man of the house, she knew, had a reputation for being arrogant, condescending, and judgmental, but as far as he was concerned, she was his sovereign, and there was no excuse to be made for his inattention.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Mouse said with a smile that she hoped might soften Sir Conrad, ¡°I have been sitting a long time in one attitude and I find I should rather like some exercise.¡±


    Sir Conrad tried his best to recover himself from what was clearly an unexpected request.


    ¡°Certainly, Your Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°If that is what you wish.¡±


    Mouse gave a nod of her head, satisfied that she was doing no less than what the Empress would in the same circumstance.


    Sir Conrad led Mouse through the hall of the keep and around the northwest side of the castle before exiting out into the bailey. From there, they went through the wall, which led directly to the training grounds.


    Mouse stepped carefully through the grass, praying she would not lose a slipper. The ground was no more than a bit damp, seemingly having been spared the worst of the rain, but the delicate, beaded shoes that Mouse wore were not meant to traverse anything more treacherous than thrushes.


    She regretted now not going to her rooms to change, the sweat beginning to run down her neck from the effort of carrying her gown across the field, but at least she had brought Bo along, so that she had an arm to cling to when she needed one.


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡± he said with a lopsided grin as he watched her struggle to wiggle her foot back into a shoe that had slipped off in a muddy pitch.


    ¡°I believe it is ¡®Your Majesty,¡¯¡± she said with a groan, grateful that if the guardsman was going to laugh at her, he at least had the good sense to wait until Sir Conrad was out of earshot before doing so. ¡°And I¡¯ll thank you not to mock me, sir, or I¡¯ll be tempted to send you out in a pair of these horrid things yourself,¡± she said, reaching down to fix the shoe by hand.


    However, as they continued across the fields, Mouse found herself becoming less regretful of her decision and indifferent even to the encumbrance of her attire. For it was not just military exercises that she found the men to be practicing, but hastiludes, all of which she had grown up watching and most of which she thoroughly enjoyed.


    She followed at a leisurely pace in Sir Conrad¡¯s wake, reminding herself that as Empress, she was well within her rights to stop as she pleased, and therefore did not hesitate to pause from time to time to watch, for instance, a few passes made at the quintain.


    At last, they neared a small stream across which a bridge had been built. From a distance, Mouse could see that upon the bridge stood a lone knight clad in armor that shone brilliantly in the midday sun. In front of him, he held a two-handed sword.


    ¡°I believe General Ralist stands yonder,¡± said Sir Conrad, indicating the far side of the pitch, ¡°with the venans.¡±


    On the other side of the fenced area from where Mouse and her attending stood was a group of men clad in padded jerkins, readying themselves for combat. But Mouse¡¯s attention was fixed on the knight.


    It was a passage of arms, she observed with a smile, one of her favorite games and one which she was in no way prepared to sacrifice in pursuit of the General.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she said to Sir Conrad without looking away from the knight, ¡°it would be better not to interrupt Lord Ralist until the contest is over.¡±


    Sir Conrad bowed his assent to this and situated himself somewhere he might be out of Mouse¡¯s view.


    Mouse leaned forward against the fence, resting her arms across it in what she knew was not a very dignified stance as she watched the first challenger pick up his sword and begin to approach the bridge. She had lost sight of Bo but could only imagine that the guardsman must be at least as excited as she was to watch the ensuing contest.


    The venan now looked back over his shoulder to the marshal, who released him with a ¡°Lay on!¡±


    The man rushed forward, raising his sword with a shout, but his blade was met by the knight¡¯s, who parried the blow with seeming ease. The man swept the blade back around, with both hands firmly grasping the handle, and this time, when the knight caught the man¡¯s blade with his own, he tilted it upward, throwing the man back with such force that he was quickly thrown off balance and stumbled to the ground, dropping his weapon in the process.


    The next man, having had the advantage of studying the first, proceeded cautiously. However, this proved to be folly, for the knight seized upon the man¡¯s hesitation, smacking the man in the shoulder with the flat of his blade before circling his blade with his own and knocking it easily from his grasp before the man had hardly any idea of what was happening.


    The third man kept his blade low, using short swipes to try and advance himself slightly, but did not realize the disadvantage he had put himself at until his first attempt to raise his sword above his shoulder was met with a forceful downward arc of the knight¡¯s own blade.


    Each advance made upon the knight was met similarly, and Mouse found that the longer she watched, the more entranced she became. The knight¡¯s movements were not only efficient, bearing the mark of ceaseless practice, but fluid, elegant.


    He looked, Mouse thought, exactly as a knight should, moved exactly as he ought. She could feel a flush begin to creep onto her neck as she watched in fixed fascination the knight who swept aside all who dared to step foot upon his bridge.


    One man had come close to striking the tenan, lunging quickly forward and bringing his blade up, hoping to catch the knight under the arm. But before he could complete his attack, the knight threw his arm up, dodging the man¡¯s blade, and in one seemingly fluid movement, brought his left foot forward and planted his right in the center of the man¡¯s chest, kicking him backward.


    However, after some time, it became clear that the knight was beginning to tire; rather than striking at his foes, he turned his blade back, using the short end as a shield against his enemies¡¯ lashes and catching their blade in his hilt when he could, tearing it from their grasp.


    Mouse wondered if a stop would not be called to the contest, but the knight continued, giving little even in his fatigue, until he had rid himself of some twenty odd foes who had collected in defeat upon the grass.


    At last, the marshal announced that no challengers remained, and the knight was given leave to retire.


    Mouse had been watching so intently that she did not hear Sir Conrad calling to her until he had done so several times.


    ¡°I beg your pardon, sir,¡± she said, releasing her grip from the fence and turning to him with a smile, her heart beating with exhilaration inside of her chest.


    But the smile soon faded from her lips as Sir Conrad stepped aside to reveal the stern-faced barrel-chested man Mouse recognized as once as the General.


    ¡°Lord Ralist,¡± she said, steeling herself to bear whatever blow to her ego the man might be prepared to deal.


    The General looked at Mouse, apparently unimpressed by what he saw. He did not seem at all gratified by his sovereign¡¯s presence upon his fields; in fact, if anything, he seemed almost offended by it.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said unbendingly, his eyes traveling over Mouse appraisingly. ¡°Welcome to Pothes Mar.¡±

 Chapter 27: Unwelcome Guests

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Mouse asked, blinking at the page boy who stood on the other side of the doorway.


    The boy, who had curly red hair and was covered in freckles, shifted but did not falter.


    ¡°It is as I have told you, Your Majesty,¡± he replied. ¡°The order comes straight from General Ralist.¡±


    ¡°One of the largest keeps in Aros,¡± Mouse said, ¡°and you do not have room for a hundred of my men?¡±


    ¡°I am afraid that is the case, Your Majesty,¡± the boy answered.


    Mouse did not doubt the boy¡¯s sincerity, but she did question the truth of his claim. But just because he believed his master when he said that there was not room for the Empress¡¯s men did not mean that Mouse did.


    Given the state of the rooms she herself had been given, she did not doubt that this was merely another one of the General¡¯s attempts to insult and disparage her.


    She had been tucked away in a dark and drafty corner of the keep where little sun was allowed in through the windows and where she was certain her path was unlikely to cross with the General¡¯s.


    After a moment¡¯s consideration of the page¡¯s words, she sighed.


    ¡°Very well,¡± she said. ¡°But I will require rooms for a few of my personal guard and some beds will need to be brought for the maids.¡± She paused. ¡°As for the rest,¡± she shook her head, ¡°I suppose they will have to seek accommodations in the village.¡±


    ¡°Fear not, Your Majesty,¡± the page said. ¡°I will see that they are recommended somewhere suitable to their stations.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Mouse, forcing a smile at the boy. ¡°Please see that you do.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything else that Your Majesty requires?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You might remind Lord Ralist that I am still awaiting an audience,¡± Mouse replied, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the boy. ¡°Oh, and I should like some water for a bath,¡± she said. ¡°Warm, preferably.¡±


    She glanced about the dim and sparely furnished chambers behind her.


    ¡°And I suppose that means I shall need a basin,¡± she said.


    It felt odd to give the orders herself, but she had not seen Lady Agatha in some time, and she doubted if her own maids had even been told where to find her.


    The page bowed.


    ¡°Straight away, Your Majesty,¡± he said.


    Though Mouse had been appalled by the General¡¯s own poor behavior, she could not say the same for his household. Sir Conrad had been attentive enough, if lacking in some of the finer points of court decorum, and the page as well had generally pleasing manners.


    He was no doubt on his way to becoming a fine knight, thought Mouse.


    ¡°If there is nothing else, Your Majesty,¡± he said, waiting for Mouse to shake her head before producing a sealed parchment.


    Mouse looked down at it, searching for signs that it had already been opened but failing to find any.


    ¡°It came for you yesterday,¡± the page said, ¡°by way of royal messenger.¡±


    Mouse furrowed her brow. That¡¯s odd, she thought to herself before remembering to conceal her confusion.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said to the boy.


    The curly-haired page bowed again and turned to leave down the hall, but Mouse called to him before he had gone more than a few steps.


    ¡°If you see your master,¡± she said, ¡°please thank him for his hospitality and these¡ª¡± she paused for effect ¡°¡ªresplendent rooms.¡±


    It was a short time later as Mouse sat puzzling over the contents of the letter she had received that half a dozen servants appeared, carrying in a pair of cots and a basin, which Mouse herself directed the delivery of.


    None of her own people had yet arrived, and she was just beginning to wonder whether she might not go and search them out. However, just as the last of the water was being brought in for the bath, Lady Agatha slipped into the room.


    ¡°Agatha,¡± Mouse said in surprise, grateful for the girl¡¯s arrival. ¡°I¡¯m glad you have finally found me.¡±


    ¡°As am I,¡± replied Agatha. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for the better part of an hour, and if it wasn¡¯t for Lady Signy¡¯s maid, I might never have found you.¡±


    ¡°You were with Lady Signy then?¡± Mouse asked, closing the door behind the servants when Agatha failed to do so.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the flaxen-haired girl said, throwing herself onto the bed before making a face. ¡°Not very comfortable is it?¡±


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    Mouse laughed.


    ¡°I should say not. But it does seem to accurately reflect how Lord Ralist feels about our intrusion,¡± she said, raising her brows on the last word.


    She crossed now to the bath and dipped a hand in the water, pleased to find that it was not as tepid as she feared it might be.


    ¡°Do you mind?¡± she asked, turning to Lady Agatha. ¡°I¡¯ve not seen any of the maids yet, and I fear if I wait for them, I might end up taking something of a cold plunge.¡±


    Agatha smiled and crossed to help Mouse undress.


    ¡°Tell me," Mouse said as the girl unfastened her necklace, ¡°what do you think of Pothes Mar? What do you think of Lord Ralist?¡±


    ¡°I have not yet met Lord Ralist,¡± Agatha said, ¡°and Pothes Mar is certainly a far cry from the capital.¡± Mouse winced as the girl wrested the crown from her head, taking with it a few strands of hair. ¡°But I do like Lady Signy.¡±


    Mouse watched her as she carried the ornaments to the only table in the room and return to help her off with her gown.


    ¡°Tell me more about her,¡± Mouse said, lifting her arms in anticipation of at last being free of the heavy layers of stiff brocade.


    ¡°Well, she is from the Caldiffian royal court, as you know,¡± said Agatha, digging through the fabric of Mouse¡¯s gown to find the fastenings, ¡°and is the younger cousin of Lady Margarethe.¡±


    ¡°Does she take after her cousin much, I wonder?¡± Mouse asked, feeling the snug fabric mercifully begin to loosen.


    ¡°Oh, I should certainly say so,¡± replied Agatha, tugging Mouse¡¯s sleeves loose. ¡°She sees much and says even more. It seems she¡¯s been trained in the art of gossip by the Lady herself.¡±


    Mouse laughed. Lady Margarethe was equally renowned for her verbosity and her ability to exaggerate the most mundane of topics. She could be a valuable source of information, if one remembered to take what she said with a grain of salt.


    ¡°Did you learn anything interesting from her then?¡± Mouse asked. Her shoulders were beginning to protest at their prolonged engagement.


    ¡°I did, in fact,¡± answered Agatha, loosening Mouse¡¯s bodice to slip it over her head. ¡°Though I am not certain how much of it I should repeat.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Mouse, her curiosity piqued.


    Agatha nodded, leaving the top half of Mouse¡¯s gown in a heap upon the floor.


    ¡°It is as regards Lady Margarethe and yourself,¡± she said. ¡°That is, the Empress,¡± she corrected herself.


    ¡°I should very much like to hear it, if you are willing to tell,¡± said Mouse, stepping carefully out of her skirts.


    Agatha bit her lip as Mouse removed her underclothes.


    "I''ll tell you," she said hesitantly, "but only if you promise not to be cross with me."


    "You have my solemn word," said Mouse, drawing a cross over her heart with her finger and stepping over to the bath.


    ¡°Well,¡± Agatha began as Mouse placed a hand on the side of the basin and gingerly stepped in, ¡°Lady Signy said that she was with the General when he learned of your coming to Pothes Mar. The squire came in, Hugo I think his name was, or Hubert maybe, and told the General as everyone was sat down to table that the Empress would soon be on her way. When he heard this, the General said¡ª¡± but here Agatha paused.


    ¡°Go on,¡± prompted Mouse, lowering herself into the water.


    Agatha swallowed, continuing the next part slowly, as if either dreading the reciting of it or being as careful as she could not to miss a word.


    ¡°He said, ¡®If only Lothar had had the decency to sire a bastard, perhaps none of us would be asked to bow to this snub-nosed puterelle of a girl whose only legacy will be that she failed to be born a man.¡¯¡±


    Mouse felt her bottom slide the rest of the way into the bath as her mouth fell open in shock.


    She looked up at Agatha, who pressed her lips together, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.


    ¡°No,¡± Mouse breathed. ¡°Do you think he truly said such a thing?¡±


    Agatha shrugged.


    ¡°That is what Lady Signy told me,¡± she said, passing a cloth to Mouse.


    Mouse took the cloth from Agatha¡¯s delicate hand, her mouth still agape.


    Under different circumstances, she might have been delighted to hear someone lash at the Empress so unabashedly. She may have even laughed. But the vileness of the condemnation and the fact that it was based on the Empress¡¯s being a woman was enough to make her instead recoil in disgust.


    ¡°To think that he makes no endeavor to hide such sentiments,¡± Mouse murmured, shaking her head. "What must his household think?"


    ¡°It is rather reprehensible,¡± said Agatha.


    Mouse dipped the cloth into the water, squeezing it out over her shoulders. No wonder she had been so ill received at the gates of Pothes Mar; the General had not a modicum of respect for the Empress.


    ¡°Did Lady Signy say anything else?¡± Mouse asked, turning her face up to the flaxen-haired girl.


    Agatha tilted her head to the side in thought.


    ¡°I believe you mentioned something about Lady Margarethe,¡± prompted Mouse, using the cloth to scrub beneath her arms.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± the girl replied. ¡°She said that Lady Margarethe is not really unwell, but that the General had her sent away before you could arrive.¡±


    Mouse laughed in astonishment.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± she said, more as an expression of disbelief than a question. The General¡¯s shamelessness was growing more impressive by the moment. ¡°I suppose she did not say why.¡±


    Agatha shook her head.


    ¡°Well, for whatever it might be worth,¡± said Mouse, ¡°Sir Conrad did not exactly lead me to believe that Lady Margarethe was unwell, only that she was with child.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that part is true,¡± Agatha said quickly. ¡°In fact, it will be her eighth child if all goes well.¡±


    Mouse reached into the water and rubbed the cloth between her toes.


    ¡°That poor woman,¡± she murmured. ¡°I do feel sorry for her.¡±


    Eight children was a great many for someone Lady Margarethe¡¯s age. She was only a few years older than the Empress, only a few years older than Mouse herself.


    ¡°Is there anything else you think bears repeating?¡± Mouse asked.


    Agatha shook her head.


    ¡°But there is something I should like to ask you,¡± she said, ¡°if you do not think it impertinent.¡±


    Mouse laughed.


    ¡°You know I am not really the Empress, Agatha,¡± she said. ¡°Ask me anything.¡±


    ¡°Why do you call him Lord Ralist,¡± the girl asked, ¡°when everyone else calls him General?¡±


    Mouse rubbed her wet hands across her face and shrugged.


    ¡°Because he is not my general,¡± she answered simply.


    Agatha nodded slowly, but Mouse could tell she did not truly understand.


    ¡°Lord Ralist was a general in the Arosian army some years ago,¡± Mouse explained, ¡°and that is part of the reason he earned his lands and titles. But he has since retired, and the army he commands now is a private one.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Agatha somewhat unconvincingly.


    ¡°Even though he has left Her Majesty¡¯s military service,¡± Mouse continued, ¡°he remains in the Empress¡¯s service as a lord, a vassal.¡±


    She drained the remaining water from the cloth before hanging it over the side of the basin and rising from the water.


    ¡°His being called General is more a matter of pride than anything, a way to aggrandize himself. But to the court, and to most people really, he is Lord Ralist,¡± she said, stepping out of the bath and into the towel Agatha held open for her.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Agatha, wrinkling her nose in surprise. ¡°So then, what should I call him?¡±


    Mouse rubbed the water from her eyes.


    ¡°Call him Lord Ralist,¡± she said, pulling the towel tightly about her shoulders as a smile crept onto her lips. ¡°If for no other reason than to remind him of his place.¡±

 Chapter 28: The Conqueror

    Mouse looked down at the sheet of parchment in her hands, reading it for what seemed like the thousandth time, though it was likely nearer only the hundredth.


    But alas, the words scribbled thereupon held no more meaning to her than the first time she had laid eyes upon them.


    ¡°Agatha,¡± Mouse said to the girl who lay upon the bed dangling a piece of string torn from the curtains in front of a grey striped cat that she had found wandering the hallways. ¡°Do the words ¡®Adalbert¡¯s scythe¡¯ mean anything to you?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Agatha murmured absently, smiling at the cat as it batted at the string with a paw.


    ¡°Adalbert¡¯s scythe,¡± repeated Mouse. ¡°Does it mean anything to you?¡±


    ¡°How is it written?¡± Agatha asked without looking up.


    ¡°Oh, nevermind,¡± Mouse sighed, crossing to the window on the other side of the room.


    The window looked out over a dim alley that ran between the southeast tower and the wing of the castle where Mouse¡¯s rooms were housed, and though it let in little light, a bit of sun could be seen through it if one stood in just the right place.


    Mouse held up the parchment, searching for signs of some hidden message, some concealed pictographs scratched across the surface that might be visible only in certain light, or when the reader was just desperate enough.


    But there was nothing there apart from the same bewildering collection of words that had stood upon the sheet from the outset: ¡°Adalbert¡¯s scythe, Yndis Vale.¡±


    The letter had been signed with the initials B.O.L., a false name, one among many, that the Empress employed when she wished to conceal her identity. It stood for ¡°Blood of Lothar.¡±


    ¡°Blood of Lothar,¡± Mouse shook her head in irritation. As much sense as the cursed letter made, it should be equally apt for the initials to stand for ¡°Bane of Lucidity.¡±


    ¡°What about ¡®Yndis Vale,¡¯¡± Mouse called over her shoulder to Agatha. ¡°Does that not signify anything you might know?¡±


    But Agatha, too deep in fascination with the cat to give her attention elsewhere, merely shook her blonde head.


    Mouse¡¯s fingers toyed with the edges of the parchment. Why could the Empress not simply use a cipher like a normal person? she asked herself, chewing her lip in frustration. She supposed the only explanation must be that the Empress was in want of ways to torture her from afar, and if that were indeed the letter¡¯s purpose, it had quite succeeded in its object.


    Just then, a knock came at the door, and Mouse quickly folded the letter, tucking it into her sleeve.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the same curly-haired page who had delivered Mouse the letter bowed. ¡°I bring greetings from Lady Signy. She prays that you are well and well-settled.¡±


    Mouse smiled at the boy.


    ¡°I am at least one of those things, if not the other, I thank you,¡± she replied.


    The boy looked at her uncertainly for a moment.


    ¡°Pray, do go on,¡± Mouse urged.


    ¡°My Lady Signy begs the favor of your company," the page said, his eyes wandering to the room behind Mouse and pausing somewhere to her left. "That is, if Your Majesty is not otherwise engaged.¡±


    Mouse glanced behind her, following the page¡¯s gaze to where Agatha lay upon the bed, drawing the string across the covers for the cat to chase.


    ¡°Indeed, I am not,¡± Mouse replied to the seemingly distracted page. ¡°And I gladly give you leave to send word to your lady that I will join her at once."


    "That is very well, Your Majesty," the page said somewhat vaguely.


    Mouse waited for the boy to go, but he made no move to leave.


    "Will there be anything else?" she asked, rousing his attention back to his addressee.


    "Oh, yes," the boy said, regaining himself. ¡°Lady Signy kindly suggests that you dress for the weather. Linen, rather than silk, she says, may be more appropriate for the day."


    Mouse nodded her understanding.


    ¡°Very well,¡± she said. ¡°I shall see that I dress appropriately.¡±


    With a bow and one last longing glance behind Mouse, the page departed from whence he had come.


    ¡°Did you hear that, Agatha?¡± Mouse said, turning to the girl. ¡°Linen, rather than silk.¡±


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    Agatha lifted her blue eyes to Mouse questioningly.


    ¡°Am I to go with you?¡± she asked, lowering the string that the cat at once pounced upon.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± said Mouse. ¡°You are my lady, are you not?¡±


    A smile pressed Agatha¡¯s rosy cheeks upward.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± she said, sitting up. ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you help the maids find what they are looking for while I send word to the guard,¡± Mouse suggested gently.


    ¡°Linen, not silk,¡± Agatha repeated cheerily, climbing down from the bed.


    Mouse nodded patiently at the girl.


    ¡°Oh, and Agatha,¡± she said with a smirk. ¡°Next time someone comes to call, I¡¯ll thank you to stay well out of view.¡±


    ¡°Are you certain you will not don your crown?¡± Agatha asked as they left the maids. ¡°I dare say you look a good deal more commanding when you wear it. And I think it grants a rather pleasing shape to your face.¡±


    ¡°No, I thank you,¡± said Mouse. ¡°I hardly think it necessary to look commanding just now, and I am in no hurry to part with any more of my hair in its removal.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± said Agatha. ¡°But do not blame me when all the handsomest knights ask my favor instead of yours.¡±


    Mouse laughed.


    ¡°Agatha,¡± she said, ¡°I give you leave to bestow your favor upon every knight between here and Cresthaven. You may have them all without a word of argument from me.¡±


    They proceeded down the cavernous halls of the keep, a guard of a dozen or so men in attendance, following after the page who only nearly led them the wrong way twice on account of not being able to keep his eyes in front of him.


    He led them outside, where a warm day awaited, guiding them down the steps of the keep and through the bailey until at last they arrived at a place near the stables where a row of horses stood saddled and waiting.


    Mouse¡¯s hand instinctively seized Agatha¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Gods,¡± she murmured under her breath, ¡°say it is not so.¡±


    She had been prepared to spend the day out of doors, in proportion to the page¡¯s suggestion, and she would have been glad even to spend the next several hours walking. But riding, well, she had not done that since she had come back from Silver Lake, and she was certainly in no hurry to resume the act of that failed play.


    ¡°Agatha,¡± Mouse said, turning a pale face to the girl, ¡°mayhaps you can tell Lady Signy¡ª¡±


    But she was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a slight, ashy-haired girl in burgundy linens who came running up to Agatha, greeting her with a kiss.


    ¡°I am so glad you have come,¡± she beamed. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she bowed to Mouse. ¡°I beg you will forgive my manners. It is only that Lady Agatha and I have already become fast friends,¡± she said, squeezing the girl¡¯s hands delightedly in her own.


    Mouse did what she could to swallow down the dread that was rising within her at the sight of the horses.


    ¡°Lady Signy,¡± she said, presuming as much. ¡°I am both delighted and honored to receive your invitation.¡±


    ¡°I hope you do not mind that I have taken the liberty of choosing our mounts,¡± the girl said, not bothering to explain why or how she had arrived at the notion of taking them out on horseback.


    But then Mouse remembered how distracted the page boy had been when he had come to deliver his lady¡¯s message and wondered that he hadn¡¯t merely forgotten to convey this very important fact.


    Mouse looked in dread at the horses that stood behind Lady Signy, each appearing somehow taller and more untame than the one next to it. And though all stood docilly, at least for the time, Mouse could not imagine any would be the equal of Passavant.


    ¡°I know that Your Majesty prefers a mare,¡± continued Lady Signy, running a hand along the neck of a chestnut horse that threw up its head at her touch, ¡°and we have not many here at Pothes Mar. But I do hope that Leonor will be to your liking.¡±


    A mare, thought Mouse as she watched Lady Signy offer the horse a few sweet words to calm her, of all the creatures that crawl upon the gods¡¯ green earth, why must she give me a chestnut mare?


    ¡°Lady Agatha,¡± the girl said, taking Mouse¡¯s silence as approval, ¡°you will be on Favory.¡± Favory was a beautiful cream-colored palfrey that looked practically as though it had been bred for the sole purpose of carrying a fair-haired beauty like Agatha.


    Mouse looked begrudgingly at her own mount that looked like it had been bred to kick people and bite them on the shoulder when they weren¡¯t looking.


    ¡°And I will be on Commander,¡± Lady Signy said, standing next to a tall, dark horse who suddenly seemed to fit his name.


    ¡°There are horses for your men in the stables,¡± said Lady Signy, indicating the nearby structure that looked nearly like a small keep in its own right. ¡°We can wait here until they are ready.¡±


    Mouse stood staring in front of her, scouring the ground for a stone or a stick or some other thing she might trip over on the way to her mount. If ever there was a time to fall down and break her leg, this was certainly it.


    ¡°Alright, Your Majesty?¡± someone said, bumping themselves into Mouse¡¯s shoulder.


    Mouse looked up to see Bo.


    ¡°Let me ask you something, Bo,¡± she said grimly. ¡°Just how sharp is that blade of yours?¡±


    ¡°Come on, then,¡± Bo said with a laugh. ¡°It won¡¯t be that bad. The Empress loves riding, remember?¡±


    Mouse gave him a look that she hoped would convey just how little amused she was by his jest.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you quartered,¡± she threatened, dropping her miserable gaze back to the grass and digging the toe of her shoe into the wet earth.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll be sitting a horse either way,¡± Bo smirked. ¡°Do your worst, I say.¡±


    Mouse looked up at the guardsman¡¯s freckled face and shook her head.


    ¡°Remind me again why I brought you,¡± she said, narrowing her eyes at him.


    ¡°Because I asked really nicely,¡± the guardsman said.


    I¡¯ll bet he asked nicely, thought Mouse. It had been the Empress who had given him leave to go to Pothes Mar, not her.


    ¡°Look,¡± Bo said, clapping a hand down on Mouse¡¯s shoulder, ¡°just put your heels down and relax your legs. The horse will do the rest.¡± He waited for her to nod her understanding. ¡°And if that doesn¡¯t work,¡± he said, ¡°just scream for help.¡±


    Mouse shook the guardsman¡¯s hand from her shoulder and smacked him on the arm.


    ¡°Oi! That¡¯s my bad arm,¡± Bo cried in protest.


    ¡°Oh, it never was,¡± said Mouse, shaking her head at the grey-eyed guardsman as he ran after the rest of guard who had already gone into the stables.


    Mouse watched the guardsman disappear inside the walls of the stable. But she now found herself in absence of any means of further delaying her fate.


    Ladies Signy and Agatha had already mounted their horses, and as Mouse approached her own mount, she saw the former withdraw her shrewd dark gaze.


    I am being watched, thought Mouse. If ever there was a time to prove Ludger wrong, to show him that someone might indeed mistake her for the Empress on horseback, this was certainly it.


    She drew a deep breath and lifted a hand to the horse.


    You are the jewel of Aros, she whispered to herself as she stroked the mare¡¯s silken neck, rider of noble Passavant and the Great Dread Leonor. You will not cower at the task put before you; you will conquer it. Just pray that today no one decides to shoot at you.

 Chapter 29: A Girl, a Dream (Part 1)

    The sun shone brightly overhead, the warm cast of its light broken only now and again by a passing cloud that swallowed the earth below it in shadow. The gently sloping foothills spread out in every direction, while to the west, the Fjaelles rose severely, the rocky, jagged mountainsides dotted in clusters of spruce and cedar. Somewhere high above, the rush of a waterfall fought to make itself heard above the lapping of the Yar, flowing ever south.


    The day was warm and pleasant as the party rode across the grounds of Pothes Mar, and though midsummer had come and gone, the heat was like to last at least another month. Mouse, for one, was grateful of it, for she was a child of spring and always preferred a long summer day, no matter how hot, to the cold, dark days of winter.


    The path which Lady Signy led them on had run first south and east, nearing the road by which they had come, before turning west and passing through a large orchard. Here, they had taken up a leisurely pace, giving the horses rein to eat that fruit which had fallen early. But unfortunately, no one had told Malger that it was not yet the season for apples until the man had eaten half a dozen of the small, hard green things and was forced to turn back to castle, doubled over in pain and red-faced from embarrassment.


    The rest of the party had continued on until they met a small stream that ran parallel to the Yar, whereupon they then turned north and rode along it, crossing into the training fields, from time to time, when the brush could not be overcome.


    At last, they stopped near a copse of young sycamores, where blankets had been laid and Lady Signy had ordered a picnic to be brought. Cold venison and brown bread, forest berries and soft cheese, along with a few flasks of red Arosian wine all awaited the party who looked upon the scene in grateful delight.


    Upon dismounting, the men saw the horses watered, while Lady Signy crossed to the bank, taking up a rope that had been thrown over a tree branch and hauling upon it, until her efforts produced a large bucket, dripping wet, which she caught and lowered carefully to the ground.


    From it, she produced several bottles of ale, cooled by the waters of the stream, which she dried upon the hem of her skirt before distributing.


    Mouse had given her horse over to Cedric, and in doing so, had said, ¡°I should not in the least blame you, sir, if my horse should happen to be tied too loose and manage to break away.¡±


    The guard had laughed, but Mouse had made the remark only partly in jest. The Great Dread Leonor had proven a trial of her nerves, pinning her ears and showing her teeth to any other horse that passed, striking and kicking at those who drew too near, and when Mouse was deemed to have fallen too far behind, took it upon herself to amend this by any means.


    Luckily, Lady Signy had been riding out in front all the while, leading the others, and so the only witness to Mouse¡¯s distress, apart from her own men, was Lady Agatha, who rode neither with the composed ease of Lady Signy or the restrained trepidation of Mouse, but merely bounced along gaily with a smile ever upon her lips.


    Once all had settled themselves comfortably in the shade, Lady Signy had raised a toast to Her Majesty¡¯s health, and for the next long while, everyone was quiet as they satiated themselves with food and drink.


    ¡°Tell me, Lady Signy,¡± Mouse said, breaking the silence as she reached for a bit of brown bread and a thumb of cheese, ¡°how long have you been at Pothes Mar?¡±


    ¡°It must be near on eight years, Your Majesty,¡± the girl replied. ¡°It was in my ninth summer that my cousin sent for me.¡±


    Mouse smiled as she spread the cheese on the bread.


    ¡°You must be practically Arosian by now then,¡± she said, looking up at the girl as she placed the bread into her mouth.


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    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty,¡± Lady Signy said, returning her smile as she leaned back on her hands. ¡°In fact, I often think of Aros as more my home than Caldiff ever was.¡±


    Mouse swallowed, chasing the bread with a sip of wine.


    ¡°Do you never miss it?¡± she asked, preparing herself another bite.


    Lady Signy paused for a moment.


    ¡°No,¡± she said at last. ¡°That is, I never think of it, Your Majesty.¡±


    Mouse nodded thoughtfully as she chewed.


    She knew enough about Lady Signy to know that the girl was telling the truth, at least in part. She had come to Aros at such a time when the Caldiff royal court was in a state of heavy decline. The crown had steadily been losing power for some time, and, flooded by a generation vying for succession rights by whatever means possible, had become overcrowded with young princes and princesses. For a girl like Signy who was so low in the order of things, there was little to be gained from remaining there.


    She was the only cousin Lady Margarethe had bothered to send for, and though she had had to give up her title of Princess of Caldiff and any future claims she might make to it in the future, she had likely secured for herself a much better future here at Pothes Mar than she might have had otherwise.


    After all, Lord Ralist was a powerful man with extensive holdings and considerable wealth, not to mention his own army, and though he and his ladywife had several children of their own, they were all yet under the age of twelve, meaning Signy was the only one whose prospects were presently being considered.


    Moreover, if the girl ended up being more politically minded, if she were both clever enough and ambitious enough, she might avail herself of her cousin¡¯s connections and see herself one day placed in the court at Kriftel.


    ¡°And what of your family?¡± Mouse asked, watching the girl¡¯s face closely. She knew she may be treading on sensitive territory, but she was curious to see how the girl would answer. ¡°Have they all remained in Caldiff or have they gone elsewhere?¡±


    Lady Signy gave a shake of her head.


    ¡°I am afraid I do not know, Your Majesty,¡± she said.


    Mouse forced a smile at the girl. Whatever else could be said about Lady Signy, it could now also be said that she was a very good liar.


    Mouse leaned her head back against the tree, savoring the fullness of her stomach and the sweet taste of forest berries still on her tongue. The men had taken up a game of pitch pot, using sticks rather than arrows and baskets rather than jars, while Ladies Agatha and Signy lay side by side on the blanket, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they looked out onto the fields and plucked up small yellow flowers from the grass which they spun between their fingers and tucked into one another¡¯s hair.


    How lovely, thought Mouse, to sit so carelessly upon a blanket under the shade of a sycamore with no other thought than how much one has eaten. How lovely to sit anywhere other than upon a horse.


    She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the stream behind her, the birdsong carrying through the air and echoing in the mountains, the faint clash of swords across the open fields. She listened to the sound of men laughing and girls whispering and sticks clattering. And for a few blessed moments, she felt totally at peace.


    She allowed every thought of her life as Mouse, the Empress¡¯s lady-in-waiting, Mouse, the Empress¡¯s decoy, Mouse, the girl who didn¡¯t know who she was drift down the stream and be carried away on the gentle breeze that teased her hair and tickled her neck.


    She listened to the sound of the water, flowing steadily, lapping against the rocks, and allowed her breath to deepen, until she found herself in that same familiar place, standing in the middle of Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge.


    She looked down at the mighty Manau flowing beneath her before lifting her gaze to the far end of the bridge. There stood the large stone house with smoke rising from the chimney.


    Mouse cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her before continuing toward the house. On she walked, listening as the sound of someone singing grew slowly louder. It was a strange song, one she did not know, but which was familiar nonetheless. Every few steps, she stopped and turned, waiting to see some grim figure chasing after her. But every time she turned, she found that she was alone.


    At last, she found herself just outside the stone house, but as she looked upon the door, she frowned, and she found she could not go in.


    This is the wrong house, she said to herself, looking at the shape painted upon the door. It was a yellow crescent against a dark blue background. It should have been a half-moon, but there something that was not right about it. Mouse shook her head, her brow knitting itself together. That is no moon, she said to herself, it is a scythe.


    Mouse did not know what roused her, but when she woke, the first thing she saw was Lady Signy¡¯s shrewd, dark eyes watching her over her shoulder. She tried to shake the dream from her head, to chase it away with a sip of wine, but something about it remained with her, holding fast to the corners of her mind.

 Chapter 30: The Missing Knight

    ¡°Thank you, Cedric,¡± Mouse said to the guardsman as he handed her down from her horse, a sense of relief sweeping over her the moment her feet landed on the grass of the bailey. She shook the dirt from her skirts. ¡°I could kiss you if I thought no one were looking.¡±


    ¡°Another time, then,¡± the guardsman smiled, taking the reins of her mount.


    Mouse patted the mare on the neck. The Great Dread Leonor turned a wary eye to her but neither bared her teeth nor threw her head.


    ¡±As for you,¡± Mouse said, producing a small green apple which she had stowed away in her pocket, ¡°I¡¯ll thank you to remember your manners from now on.¡±


    She held the apple out in her palm, which the mare gratefully gobbled up before blowing through her nose.


    It had been late morning when they had set out across the emerald fields of Pothes Mar. The sun had crept slowly westward across the sky, illuminating the soaring peaks of the Fjaelles and glittering upon the Yar as it spun its way north through the lush green landscape. But now the day had begun to grow thin, and Mouse found herself in anticipation of its end. Sore and exhausted as she was from the day¡¯s exercise, she knew there was little that could not be remedied by a warm bath, a hot meal, and a nice, long sleep.


    She had spent much of her time in the saddle reflecting on the object of her stay at Pothes Mar. She had been given charge of speaking with the General on a few key matters, but she had yet to secure an audience with the man and was beginning to worry whether she might go her entire stay at Pothes Mar without ever exchanging more than a few words with him.


    He seemed determined to put her off, as he had done since her arrival, but whether this was a result of his apparent disdain for the Empress or some failing of Mouse¡¯s was difficult to say. She supposed it might also be attributed to ill breeding or merely the affectation of a detached manner too long entertained by his own household, but this seemed the least likely to Mouse, for even a man as removed from the court as the General would know to conduct himself with a due sense of decorum, especially in the presence of his sovereign.


    When Mouse had tired of this deliberation, her thoughts turned to the letter. Adalbert¡¯s scythe, Yndis Vale, she had repeated to herself under her breath time and again, hoping that something about the words might strike out at her if she were to say them aloud. But alas, this ponderance too came to little, and Mouse soon found herself given to thoughts of a more pleasing nature.


    The warmth of the sun on her skin and the sound of the Cherith birds in the trees had called to mind her time at Silver Lake and the happy days she had spent there in the company of the Foilunder. She missed him terribly, as she had never missed anyone before, and wondered where he might be now. Still riding north, she supposed, or east along the narrow sound. Or perhaps he was already back in his homeland, sitting in the large stone house by Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge, the one with the half-moon painted on the door, waiting for her.


    Though Mouse was at times grateful for the solitude provided her by a mount too foul-tempered to be approached by any other rider, there were times when her heart began to ache so terribly with longing for the Foilunder that she would have welcomed any sort of distraction.


    At least, she thought, she was not locked up in some stuffy Council chamber, listening to a gaggle of old men bicker while anything fruitful failed to pass among them. At least she was not there to hear them rail, as they undoubtedly would, against the presence of Lord Marius in the court at Kriftel. And though Mouse was eager to be away from the disobliging General and out from under the dark, shrewd eyes of Lady Signy, she found herself in little hurry to return home, where her torments were more numerous still than that which they were here.


    Mouse now stood in the bailey awaiting her guard. Ladies Signy and Agatha had dismounted ahead of her, but remained in one another¡¯s confidence, some distance from Mouse, as they had for much of the day.


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    The cast of the sun was turning a warm copper as it streaked in through the divide of the mountains, painting the walls of the castle a rich gold, and many of the men who had been at practice out on the fields were now riding in through the wall.


    Mouse watched them as they came in, one by one, bathed in the glow of the late-day sun. Their shining plate reflected the warm rays sent down from the heavens, and they looked almost as though they had been dipped in gold.


    It was a mesmerizing sight, thought Mouse, and one she could have gladly watched for a long while, were she not interrupted by someone calling her name.


    ¡°Lady Maudeleine,¡± the voice called, and Mouse turned to see a man in plate who had just come down from a tall, tawny destrier smiling at her as he undid his bevor.


    ¡°Sir Hugo,¡± Mouse said in surprise as she took in the man. The knight¡¯s brown hair was unkempt from the removal of his helm and cap, clinging to his damp skin in some places and sticking out at odd angles in others, and a long pink scar extended downward beneath his left ear.


    Sir Hugo handed his helm to his squire and took a swallow from his skin before clapping the boy on the shoulder and turning to walk toward Mouse.


    Mouse could always tell an untested knight from one who had seen battle; it was in the way they treated their men. A knight who had never seen combat took for granted those who labored beneath him, but a man who had known the dangers of the battlefield understood just how much his life depended upon his gleve.


    Sir Hugo was one of those knights who had seen his share of battle, but even when he had been too young to fight, Mouse had known him to be a kind and decent man who always treated servants with the same degree of respect and dignity as he would a nobleman and nearly always called Mouse by her proper name.


    He had been in the Empress¡¯s service as one of her guard, as evidenced by the gilded gadlings he wore on his gauntlets, but Mouse had not seen him since he had gone north to the Chatti lands and wondered what on earth he was doing at Pothes Mar.


    ¡°You look well, sir,¡± said Mouse as the knight drew near. ¡°Lord Ralist must be feeding you well.¡±


    Sir Hugo laughed.


    ¡°That he is,¡± he replied, smiling down at Mouse through light brown eyes. ¡°Are you quite well, My Lady?¡± he asked. ¡°I have not seen you in some many months.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Mouse, ¡°I believe it has been near on a year since we have last met.¡± Her eyes traveled over the knight¡¯s face. He looked little changed since she had last seen him, though the soft boyishness of his face had become somewhat more rugged and his skin had grown a shade or two darker.


    ¡°Pray, sir,¡± ventured Mouse, ¡°why have you not come back to the capital?¡± She knew it might not be the most delicate question for her to ask, but she felt she would be remiss if she did not inquire into the knight¡¯s seemingly unexplained absence. She liked Sir Hugo, and she should like to know why he had left.


    ¡°I would,¡± Sir Hugo said, raising his eyebrows, ¡°most gladly, if Her Majesty would have me.¡±


    Mouse shook her head. She did not understand what the man could mean.


    ¡°I beg your pardon,¡± she said to the knight, ¡°but I am not certain I take your meaning. If there is any doubt as to whether your post with Her Majesty¡¯s guard awaits you, I can guarantee you that it most eagerly does.¡±


    Sir Hugo looked at her, a small smile gracing his lips.


    ¡°I am glad to hear it,¡± he said. ¡°I was given to the impression that my service to Her Majesty was no longer required. That is the only reason I have taken a posting here.¡±


    Mouse furrowed her brow.


    ¡°Who could peddle such nonsense,¡± she murmured before allowing her expression to soften into a smile. ¡°You know, if I bring you back to Kriftel myself, I¡¯ll be hailed as a hero. What say you, sir?¡±


    ¡°I must speak with my master, of course,¡± the knight said, ¡°but otherwise, I am graciously at My Lady¡¯s disposal.¡± He bowed.


    Happy news for me, thought Mouse. Now if fail in my task of interviewing Lord Ralist, at least I will not return an utter failure.


    Mouse had enjoyed speaking with Sir Hugo, however briefly, and he had given her much to think on, but she was now under the distinct impression that it was her who the rest were waiting on, and she did not wish to cause any further delay to their retirement.


    ¡°I should tell you,¡± said Mouse before parting from the knight, ¡°that I am not here as Maudeleine Toth, but rather as Empress Idalia Aemilia Toth, so when you come looking for me, you had better ask for the latter.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± said Sir Hugo, his face alighting at the realization. ¡°I certainly will do. And you can expect my answer no later than Adalbert¡¯s scythe.¡±


    Mouse froze, her mind seizing upon the knight¡¯s final words.


    ¡°I beg you pardon?¡±

 Chapter 31: Mixed Messages

    Mouse¡¯s exhaustion had been replaced by a sudden feverish desire to run back to her rooms, tear open the letter which she stuffed inside of a book and buried at the bottom of a trunk, and study its contents, this time under the illumination of Sir Hugo¡¯s revelation.


    Upon inquiry, he had explained to Mouse something she otherwise was not like to have to realized, no matter how long she labored to, namely that Adalbert¡¯s scythe was a term used to refer to the moon as it formed a thin but distinguishable crescent in the night sky and the day upon which this occurred. In other words, it was a date, whichever one happened to coincide with the third day of the moon¡¯s cycle of rebirth.


    The term had been derived from the story of Adalbert, the man who laboriously filled and emptied the shining silver lake that was the moon bucket by bucket, night by night. It was by no means a phrase commonly used; in fact, Mouse had never heard it before in all her life. Instead, it had emerged within the Arosian military, as it was unlike to be understood by anyone unfamiliar with the legend, providing a certain level of secrecy. And in a place like Pothes Mar, so dominated by military men, it had fallen into common use.


    Upon reflection, Mouse wondered whether her dream beneath the sycamore had not hinted at this, however curiously, but she was nonetheless certain that she was not like to have come to the conclusion had it not been for Sir Hugo¡¯s instruction.


    For a brief moment, the thought occurred to Mouse that the letter might have reached her by mistake, but there could be no mistake: it had been delivered directly into her hand.


    It was curious to her that the Empress should choose a communication thus characterized, lying so far, as it were, out of Mouse¡¯s grasp. Could she really have credited her with possessing such knowledge?


    But stranger still to Mouse was her own excitement in translating the enigmatic contents of the letter. It had confused and irked her before, but now she found a kind of thrill in attempting to unravel its meaning. Perhaps, she wondered, she had been too long away from the capital, too long free of Ludger¡¯s incessant questioning and prodding, and her mind, now given free rein to do as it pleased, longed for its old familiar torments.


    However, Mouse was given little occasion to dwell further on the matter, for before she had even reached her rooms, she was met by the same curly-headed page who had come to her earlier that day.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the boy bowed.


    Mouse gave him a reluctant smile. She was not certain she was prepared to forgive him for neglecting to convey a very important piece of information on his last visit. Seeing as how he stood between her and her chambers, however, she supposed she had little choice but to hear him.


    ¡°My master requests the favor of your company,¡± the boy said, ¡°that is, if it pleases Your Majesty.¡±


    Mouse raised her eyebrows in surprise.


    ¡°Certainly you cannot mean now,¡± she said.


    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty,¡± the boy replied. ¡°I was asked to carry word to you the moment you came in.¡±


    Mouse looked first to her guard for some sort of excuse that might be conjured and then down at her dirty gown. She smelled like she had slept in a stable and could not imagine she looked much more favorably.


    Nevertheless, if the General had relented in his attempts to evade her, it was not an opportunity she could allow herself to waste.


    ¡°Very well,¡± she sighed at last. ¡°I will come at once. But I must insist that I am at least given time to change my dress.¡± She gave the boy a wry smile. ¡°That is, unless your master prefers the stench of horse to that of woman.¡±


    ¡°As Your Majesty wishes,¡± the boy said, once again bowing, and as Mouse took leave to go into her rooms and dress, ¡°I await Your Majesty¡¯s convenience.¡±


    Mouse found herself vaguely disheartened that the General had chosen such an inopportune time to entertain an audience with her. She had been looking forward to soaking in a warm tub of herbs and washing away the offensive odor that clung to her hair and skin, to having a warm dinner brought to her bedside before falling asleep with the Empress¡¯s letter in her hand in the hopes that it might conjure some revelatory dream.


    But alas, duty demanded that she see the man she had been sent to exercise her task upon.


    ¡°Do not wait for me,¡± she said to the maids after they had helped her into a long linen tunic and thereafter a shorter one fashioned out of blue silk. ¡°See that you eat something, and be certain that Lady Agatha does not go wandering about the place without a guard.¡±


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    Lady Agatha had gone with Lady Signy when the party had separated, but Mouse was not keen on the idea of the girl making herself known in Pothes Mar any more than she was certain to have already. She was far too young and beautiful to escape notice, and too foolish to be trusted to herself. And whether Lady Signy was more likely to curb or compound this effect, Mouse certainly could not say. As such, she had sent Bo and a couple other of her own men with the girl, in the hopes of deterring any potential prospects, and in the least, protecting her against doing anything truly unwise.


    When Mouse was satisfied with her preparations, or at least to the extent that she might be, pressed as she was to hasten to the General, she once again left her rooms and followed the page down the cavernous halls of the keep. On the way, she took what chance she could to peek out of any open window they passed, in the hopes of catching sight of the moon. But as it was, she could not make it out; the sky was still painted a dull, greyish shade of violet, and the stars themselves had not yet risen.


    As they continued down the hall toward where the General awaited her, Mouse felt a pit begin to form in her stomach. She found herself remembering the cold informality of her initial reception, the General¡¯s exacting gaze and unimpressive demeanor. Could it be, she wondered, that he knew she was not in fact the Empress? Could he have known somehow from the very beginning that she was little more than some inconsequential child of court sent as a form of distraction? It would certainly explain his lack of deference and determination to insult her; he would no doubt consider it a grave insult to himself and his estate.


    Mouse suddenly wished she could turn back, to run into her room, jump into bed, and pull the covers over her head until it was time to return to Kriftel. Though she had only just arrived at Pothes Mar, she already found that she was ready to leave.


    What had she been thinking to imagine that she could fool the General? What had the Empress been thinking? To appear in the window of a carriage was one thing, to smile out from the steps of a keep or exchange small words with some foreign dignitary who had likely never so much as seen a portrait of the Empress. But to conduct a private interview with a lord as powerful as Ralist whose ladywife was practically an intimate of the Empress¡ªit was absurd.


    Mouse had been given charge of discussing with General Ralist some issues regarding local riparian rights. Apparently water disputes were of great concern the area. However, she now found herself wondering how important it could possibly be if the Empress herself could not be bothered to come and the General had not instead sought her in the capital.


    Was it too late, Mouse wondered, to call the meeting off? Perhaps she could complain of a tender stomach or a sudden fit of fatigue.


    But before she could devise a satisfactory means of escape, Mouse found herself outside the room to which she had been called. They were now in the northern part of the keep, far from Mouse¡¯s own rooms, and while the halls had grown busier along their way, the one which they had turned down last was all but empty.


    When she entered, Mouse found herself in a medium-sized room, simply, albeit not untastefully, furnished and smelling of smoke and roasted meats. The walls were largely bare, with one bearing a landscape of the region and another a tapestry of the famed Yarmen¡¯s battle, a favorite subject of artists in this part of the country. The room was fitted with dark furnishings, central of which was a round table that stood in the middle of the room.


    The table, Mouse observed, had already been set with trenchers, and she saw now that the sideboard was the source of the aromas that wafted toward her, filling her nose with mouthwatering smells. It had been laid with a variety of game meats, and next to these was a hearty vat of bean stew and bread and butter. Soldiers food, Mouse thought to herself, as she surveyed the scene.


    It was in this briefest of moments that Mouse had forgotten her host, and it was with a sense of both surprise and unexpected relief that she now watched him rise to greet her.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°I am most gratified that you have chosen to accept my invitation. I hope I have not disturbed any previous plans you might have formed or inconvenienced you in any way.¡±


    Mouse allowed a small smile to form upon her lips.


    Though she was relieved to learn that the evening would not be quite what she dreaded it might, it was with no small degree of perturbation that she thought of the page. The boy would need to seek his calling elsewhere, she mused, for it certainly did not lie in the art of conveyance. Twice now he had failed her, and she did not wish to see what disaster might await on the third.


    ¡°Not in the least, sir,¡± Mouse said, accepting a seat at the table opposite her host. His eyes, she found, were softened by the dim light of the candles, and the intimacy of the setting removed some of the edge from his previous formality.


    The pit of dread in Mouse¡¯s stomach had now dissolved into little more than a rumbling hunger urged on by the aromatic courses set before them upon the table¡ªthat and a vague sense of curiosity as to why she might have been called. She wished to study the man¡¯s face, to see if there was not some hint there as to his intentions, but she found it difficult to do so, seeing as his own gaze was already penetrating her.


    It was not discomforting, the way he looked at her, thought Mouse, but it was perhaps a bit awkward to meet his eye under so close an inspection. So instead, she busied herself by studying his finely woven red tunic, the silver stitching along the sleeves, the way the fabric hugged his shoulders.


    Now here is a man for Agatha, she thought. He is old enough to have survived the folly of youth without being so old as to be fatherly. He is experienced enough to have won the favor of his lord without the appearance of being jaded. And he is handsome enough to win a lady¡¯s favor without being so handsome as to believe he owes the world little else.


    Mouse accepted a cup from the servant, turning it in her hand to admire the dark burgundy wine that painted the inside of it.


    ¡°To your health,¡± the man across her said, raising his cup in a toast.


    Mouse let her eyes linger on him a moment longer before lifting her own cup.


    ¡°And to yours, Sir Conrad.¡±

 Chapter 32: Ask Not, Tell Not

    The mid-morning sun was pouring in through the windows of the small dining room where Mouse sat sipping a cup of thin ale and gnawing on a tough end of bread. She was attended by the General and Lady Margarethe¡¯s five youngest children, and apart from the servants, was the only grown-up person in the room. The eldest of the General''s two children, Bertram and Inga, were absent, as they were both of an age to be elsewise engaged¡ªBertram as a page in his father¡¯s household, and Inga, no doubt, in practicing needlework or some other ladylike pursuit. And though Ladies Agatha and Signy had been meant to join them, Agatha had still been in bed when Mouse had left, and Lady Signy had not yet returned from fetching her.


    The children, Mouse was pleased to find, were all lovely and fair and mild-mannered besides. The eldest in attendance, Maria, was nine years of age and tall for a girl of her years, while the smallest, Juda, was so young that she had hardly outgrown her nurse. Mouse watched with a smile on her lips as elder children shoved honied bread into their mouths while the little ones tugged on the sleeves of their maids.


    When Sir Conrad had proposed over supper the evening before the idea of Mouse''s meeting the children, she had imagined that the man himself might be in attendance, or perhaps even the General, but as it was, neither of the men had appeared. It was yet too early in the day for such men to sit down to table, Mouse supposed. But all the same; it was a great deal easier to maintain the illusion of regality in the company of people who could not yet tie their own trousers.


    The idea of Mouse''s meeting the children had arisen from her desire to meet one in particular, namely Leopold, the Generals¡¯s second oldest son. It was on the boy''s behalf that Sir Conrad had invited Mouse to dine with him, asking whether the child might not be allowed to accompany her back to Kriftel. Leopold was nearly of an age to become a page, and Sir Conrad had expressed a deep concern that were the boy to remain at Pothes Mar, he would forever live in his elder brother''s shadow, unable to inherit and prevented from distinguishing himself by a sense of familial duty.


    Mouse found it curious that Sir Conrad should take it upon himself to forward the boy''s cause and plead his case, and this curiosity was only increased by the knight''s attempts to make the matter seem secondary when Mouse could see clearly that his heart was in the thing. Furthermore, Mouse had seldom heard of a knight being given permission to dine privately, especially when serving in someone else''s household. Such a thing would certainly never be allowed in the capital, and Mouse wondered that it had not been arranged through some sort of deception. Who was Sir Conrad, she wondered, that he should take such liberties?


    However, Mouse had been quite sympathetic to the idea overall. Perhaps it was because she had a keen sense of what it was like to live in someone else¡¯s shadow, how crippling it could be to one¡¯s own sense of worth to forever be in servitude to one who was, by nature, in every way superior. And though the thought had not occurred to her, as she had agreed to Sir Conrad that she would gladly accept the boy, contingent upon meeting him, she had wondered later, as she lay awake in bed that night, how much more severely such a wound might sting if the one whose greatness had oppressed had in fact been her own sibling.


    But before the thought could unfurl itself further, she had rolled over onto her side and turned her thoughts elsewhere, to Sir Hugo. Though it had only been a matter of hours since she had spoken with the knight, she was eager to receive his answer. How wonderful a thing it would be for her to ride back with him a member of her retinue. Even if no one were to rejoice upon Mouse''s return to the capital, they certainly would to see Sir Hugo; the man was little less than a national treasure.


    It was perplexing to Mouse how one of the Empress''s men should end up here under the misguided impression that he was no longer wanted in the capital. It was either a grave misunderstanding, thought Mouse, or the General was capable of far greater treachery than she had imagined.


    Mouse had drifted off to sleep with a hundred different questions on her mind, not just about the mysterious figures of Pothes Mar, but also as to what might be passing miles away in her absence.


    Had the Chatti arrived in the capital, she wondered, and Lord Marius? In what sort of state would she find the Council when she returned? And what of Jasper? Was the stable boy still confined somewhere under lock and key, or had Ulrich finally seen reason and freed him?


    That night, Mouse did not dream of Foilund and Kingfishers'' Bridge. She did not dream of the mighty Manau or the house with the half-moon painted on the door. Instead, she dreamed of looming mountains, their peaks reaching so high into the sky that they covered all the surrounding land in shadow. She dreamed of figures hiding in the trees, slinking unseen through the conifers and concealing themselves in secret passageways carved into the face of the mountain.


    She dreamed of the moon, bright and yellow, hanging in the sky, dangling as if from a string, a scythe waiting to fall and cut down whatever lay in its path.


    She had woken with a shiver in her drafty room just as the first fingers of morning light were beginning to creep under the bed curtains. Agatha had not climbed into bed until well after Mouse had fallen asleep, but somehow in the course of the night, she had managed to pull all the blankets from Mouse''s side of the bed onto her own, and any attempt Mouse now made to wrest at least a portion of them back were met with little success.


    Eventually, Mouse had relented to the chill of lying exposed upon the feathers and risen, dressing at once in a gown of wool to warm herself. And it was not long after this that a knock had come at her door and the invitation to break her fast with the children and Lady Signy had been issued.


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    Mouse sat now in the dining room, ribbons of warm light dancing across the table, observing little Leopold. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the boy as far as she could see, nothing that should make one more sympathetic to him than to the rest. He looked no different than most children his age, and there was nothing in his manner to suggest he might be especially promising. But these were all superficial observations, Mouse supposed, just as the notion that there was something in his face, something about his sandy blond hair that seemed, in a way, almost familiar.


    The boy kicked his feet happily as he chewed on a grape and spit out the stone, seeming to take no notice of the fact that Mouse was watching him. What was it about the boy, Mouse wondered, that had so attached Sir Conrad''s affection?


    It was as Mouse was pondering this that a familiar voice roused her, and she rose from her seat in haste, nearly knocking over her cup in the process.


    ¡°Good gods,¡± said the woman who had suddenly appeared in the doorway, a funny sort of smile on her lips as she looked at Mouse, ¡°is that really what I look like?¡±


    Sir Otto¡¯s black charger pawed at the ground, bobbing his head in anticipation of being loosed. His mane lay against his neck in tightly wound black braids, his dark eyes shining beneath the chanfron affixed to his head as Sir Otto sat composedly atop his mount, his gloved hands resting upon the pommel of his saddle. The gilded gadlings of his gauntlets gleamed in the sun as he awaited his challenger.


    At the other end of the list, a flea-bitten gelding threw his head in agitation, stepping back against a bit that pressed too forcefully into his mouth. His rider, too occupied in trying to ascertain whether his spurs had been properly put on to loosen his hold on the reins, cursed in anger at his mount¡¯s rebellion until the groom, a lanky boy of some thirteen years or so, ran over and took the harried creature by the bridle before it could back clear out of the yard.


    Mouse tugged absently at the loose end of a thread she had managed to work free with the nail of her thumb, plucking it from a seam in the sleeve of her gown until she had enough to spin it between her fingers.


    Sir Conrad leaned toward Mouse, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair.


    ¡°All these half lords and hearth sons,¡± he said, ¡°more often than not, they¡¯re on borrowed horses and in plate made to fit someone else.¡±


    Mouse smiled vaguely at the knight¡¯s remark. Though her eyes were fixed on the two men in the yard, her mind was elsewhere entirely.


    To say she had been shocked to see the Empress walk into the dining room that morning would be an understatement. There had been no word sent of her coming, and the last person in the world that Mouse had expected to see was the very one she was meant to be emulating. Ever since then, Mouse had found herself out of sorts. She never felt more ill at ease than when the Empress was around; even when she was doing nothing at all, she somehow felt as though she were doing it wrong.


    The Empress had interrupted Mouse ¡°holding court,¡± as the woman had japed, to interview her briefly in such matters as whether she had held an audience with the General and whether she had received the Empress¡¯s letter. And though Mouse had escaped the encounter largely unscathed, pressed only for the simplest of answers, she knew it was only a matter of time until she was properly admonished for her failings. Moreover, it could not be long before the true Empress made herself known and Mouse was revealed as a forgery.


    But, Mouse sighed to herself, that time would come regardless of the extent to which she dwelled on it now, so she had better enjoy herself, such that she could, for the present. It was with such a notion in mind that she fixed her attention on the men in the yard, who now stood at the ready, their helms lowered and shields and coronelled lances handed up.


    After a brief moment of relative quiet, the marshal cried out, releasing them.


    In an instant, the black charger was thundering down the list, his hooves tearing at the earth as he ran, while on the other side, the white rose up momentarily before his feet came crashing back down, a cloud of dirt rising in his wake as he raced forward. Sir Otto, having the advantage of experience and the cooperation of his horse, was the first to couch his lance, and though it appeared for a moment as though the other man might miss his chance entirely, at the last minute, he was able to tuck his elbow into his side, bringing the tip of his lance in line with his target.


    It looked, in that moment, as though the points may land in any man¡¯s favor. However, only one of the two was a knight.


    Sir Otto¡¯s lance struck the other¡¯s shield squarely in the boss, and rather than knocking it to the side as he might have if the other man had moved to deflect the blow, pushed it up and into the man¡¯s chest, forcing him off balance and knocking him from his horse. The man careened backward, arms over his head as he fell. However, as his shoulders struck the ground, his right foot became caught in the stirrup, so that his horse, reeling from the upset, drug him around the yard until he could at last be caught by a groom.


    ¡°I imagine the only humiliation worse than being knocked down on the first pass is having to return home and tell your brother you lost his best mount in the process,¡± Sir Conrad said, shaking his head as the man was taken under the arms and lifted to his feet.


    ¡°At least he¡¯ll go back with his head still on his shoulders,¡± Mouse said, watching as the man''s helm was removed and he was assessed for injury. ¡°I once saw some poor man ride down the lists in a half-helm, and I''m certain you can imagine just how well that went.¡±


    Sir Conrad laughed.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he said, ¡°I wonder how many enter the lists thinking they''ll find glory only to then find themselves lucky to be alive."


    The defeated man had recovered himself, and was now making a show of admonishing his squire and spitting on the ground in front of the marshal.


    "Tell me, Sir Conrad," Mouse said, turning to look at the knight, suddenly struck by something in his face. His dark blond hair, lightened by the sun, was trimmed short, just long enough on the sides to curl back behind his ears, showing a strong jaw and angular face that starkly contrasted the heavy brow and stubbled face of the General.


    Mouse took a moment to recover herself, trying not to let her countenance betray the recognition that had just dawned on her. ¡°Do you never ride in the lists?¡± she asked. She took note, as if for the first time, of the man''s straight back, trim figure, and long fingers. ¡°I should think you a fine horseman.¡±


    ¡°You flatter me,¡± the knight replied. ¡°I have indeed seen my share of the joust," he said, "but these days my duties tend to be of a more," he paused, a smile tugging at his lips, "administrative nature.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Mouse, "far less dangerous but equally thrilling.¡± She smiled at the knight. ¡°Or is it the other way around?¡±

 Short Story: A Passage of Arms

    Agatha sat atop Favory, her eyes tracing the line of the Yar as it wend its way through the foothills. It looked like it was full of diamonds, she thought to herself with a smile, the way the light danced and glittered across its surface.


    The morning had begun somewhat cool and misty, with clouds hanging threateningly around the peaks of the Fjaelles, but the dampness had been quickly eaten away by the sun, which now blazed brightly in the sky.


    Agatha had been born in the far south, though she hardly looked it, brought to court at a young age by an uncle, and because of this was prone to take a chill but had an unusual tolerance for the heat.


    She was riding her cream-colored gelding along the river where the forest had been cut away, with Lady Signy just ahead her and two of the guard behind.


    Agatha enjoyed spending time with Lady Signy, not just because she was from somewhere different and always had some story to tell, but because she made Agatha feel like she herself were interesting.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± Lady Signy said now, slowing her mount so that she rode alongside Agatha, ¡°what is the Empress really like, when no one else is around?¡±


    Agatha looked at her through bright blue eyes.


    ¡±What do you mean?¡± she asked, only partially feigning ignorance.


    ¡°Well,¡± Lady Signy said carefully, ¡°I had always had the impression that the Empress was a very bold and venturesome sort of person,¡± she pulled her lips into a crooked smile, ¡°temerarious even, some might say. But now that I¡¯ve met her, she seems a good deal more¡ª¡± she paused, searching for the right word, ¡°reserved than I had anticipated.¡±


    Agatha chewed her lip in contemplation. She did not know what ¡°temerarious¡± meant, but she somehow thought it did not describe Mouse, the person to whom Lady Signy was undoubtedly if unknowingly referring.


    Indeed, Mouse and the Empress were little alike in disposition¡ªthe Empress was self-possessed, controlling, and cruel while Mouse was given to a more quiet and brooding nature. Agatha did not particularly care for either of them, the Empress least of all, but she could not very well say so to Lady Signy any more than she could tell her they were two different people.


    ¡°The Empress is not so very different behind closed doors,¡± Agatha said, shifting uncomfortably in her saddle, ¡°but I suppose she has not been feeling very well.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Lady Signy raised her eyebrows at Agatha, the interest in her voice evident. ¡°And why might that be, if you don¡¯t mind my asking?¡±


    Agatha thought for a moment. She had begun with lie, and now she would have to commit herself to it.


    ¡°I think it is something she ate,¡± she replied. ¡°One of those sour apples perhaps.¡±


    Lady Signy threw her head back and laughed.


    ¡°The Empress of Aros undone by an apple,¡± she said, ¡°do not tell the General or he will plant trees all along the border.¡±


    Agatha forced herself to smile in return. She could not see how she had said anything so very amusing, but she supposed it did not matter, so long as Lady Signy believed the lie.


    They continued on another ten minutes or so across the wedge of land that ran between the river and a small stream that abutted the fields, when Lady Signy announced that they should turn back if they did not wish to miss dinner.


    Agatha, for one, was glad of it, for she had slept through breakfast, and her stomach was begin to ache with hunger.


    At last, they came across a bridge spanning the stream that would lead them back toward the castle. They had forded at a low point but the embankment was much steeper here.


    They had just turned and were making for the bridge when a knight appeared, walking toward them. Agatha did not expect that such a bridge should have a tenant, but there was much about the way things were done at Pothes Mar that she did not understand.


    Lady Signy rode forward to meet the knight.


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    ¡°Who holds this bridge?¡± she asked, looking loftily down at the knight. But if the man made any answer, Agatha, who remained back with the guard, could not hear it.


    ¡°Sir Frederik, is it?¡± Lady Signy asked. ¡°I know you by the way you wear your sword,¡± she smirked, ¡°if not by the etching on your plate.¡±


    Agatha looked the knight over but could see no etching on his plate, only a few scratches here and there. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the guardsmen, to judge how they were taking the exchange.


    ¡°Come now,¡± Lady Signy said to the knight who refused to move from her path, ¡°you must at least allow us ladies to cross.¡±


    The knight looked past her, seeming to consider Agatha and the two guard who waited a few yards behind. He waited for a moment, and then stepped aside, allowing Lady Signy to ride past him across the wooden planks of the bridge.


    Once she had crossed, Lady Signy turned and motioned for the others to follow.


    Agatha felt nervous somehow, but nudged her horse forward, her heels pressing into his sides. Her heart began to pound as Favory¡¯s hooves rang out against the wooden boards, and she did not know whether she should look at the knight or avoid his eye entirely. His helm had been drawn shut, but she could feel his eyes upon her.


    Then, just as Agatha rode past the knight, he suddenly seized her by the ankle, causing her to cry out in surprise.


    Lady Signy laughed.


    ¡°Your shoe!¡± she called to Agatha from the other side of the bridge. ¡°Give him your shoe!¡±


    Agatha, still rather startled and unsure of what to do, heeded Lady Signy and leaned down, hurriedly undoing her shoe and throwing it at the knight, before riding the rest of the way across the bridge as quickly as she could.


    Lady Signy was waiting for her with a smile. Her dark eyes glimmered, but not in the same cold, malicious way the Empress¡¯s did.


    ¡°Now it is up to the others to win it back,¡± she explained to Agatha.


    The guardsmen, who were still on the other side of the bridge, did not seem to need any explanation of what to do, the first dismounting without hesitation and drawing his weapon from its sheath.


    He approached the knight, going straight into a quick and relentless attack, alternating his strikes from high left to low right and so on, seeking to confuse and tire his opponent and thereby create an opening in his defense.


    He might have succeeded eventually, had it not been for a careless over-parry that left his own left side open, and the succession of blows he was unable to overcome in the wake of his mistake.


    ¡°Do not despair,¡± said Lady Signy, noticing the fallen look on Agatha¡¯s face. ¡°There is still some hope for your second guard.¡±


    Rolf was the second guardsman to face the knight, and Agatha¡¯s only hope of getting her shoe back.


    He began with a more measured approach, but Agatha was not willing to chance her shoe on his caution.


    ¡°Take him into half-swords, Rolf!¡± she shouted from her mount on the other side of the bridge.


    The knight looked over his shoulder at her, turning back to his opponent just barely in time to meet his attack. Rolf heeded Agatha, using the distraction to take the fight into half-swords. With one hand on the hilt and the other on the blade, he was able to exact a stronger force upon his foe¡¯s blade and slowly began to drive him backward.


    Agatha¡¯s heart now began to pound with excitement. It looked as though Rolf stood a good chance of defeating the knight.


    However, just when it seemed that the guardsman¡¯s victory was imminent, Sir Frederik found an opening, and throwing his sword aside, lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the guardsman¡¯s legs. In one deft motion, he lifted the guardsman and threw him onto his back.


    Rolf¡¯s sword clattered out of his hand, landing just out of reach before being swept up by knight, sealing his defeat.


    Agatha was a mixture of awe and distress. She had been duly impressed by the knight, but with both her guard defeated, how could she hope to regain her shoe?


    She turned to look at Lady Signy, but the girl only smiled and nodded toward the knight who was now approaching.


    Agatha felt her heart leap into her throat. It seemed to beat louder with every slow deliberate step of the knight as he walked toward her. He stopped at her horse¡¯s shoulder, taking one side of its rein in a gloved hand.


    Agatha looked down at the knight. Through the narrow slit of his helm, she thought she could just make out a pair of green glimmering eyes, and in that moment, she felt something in her begin to stir.


    He held up her shoe, but as Agatha went to take it, leaning over in her saddle and extending an arm, she realized he held it just out of reach. She would have to give him something in exchange for it, if she wanted it back.


    Her hand went instinctively to the ribbon in her hair, before she remembered it had been borrowed from Mouse, or rather, taken without her knowledge, and she therefore reached for her neck, removing the small silver chain she wore around it and holding it out to the knight, before dropping it into his gloved hand.


    The knight looked down and the chain in his hand, seeming to admire it for a moment, and looked back up at Agatha, handing her the shoe, which she quickly slipped back onto her foot.


    ¡°Farewell, Sir Frederick,¡± Lady Signy said as the party, now safely reunited on the other side of the bridge continued on their way.


    As they began across the fields toward the castle, Agatha cast a look back over her shoulder. There by the bridge, seemingly unaware that he was being watched, stood the knight. He had removed his helm, revealing soft brown curls that pressed against his face, and held it under his arm as he worked to fasten the chain Agatha had given him around his own neck.


    Agatha once again felt something stir within her, a kind of flutter in her chest, a feeling like the taste of candied oranges on her tongue.


    Sir Frederik, she repeated to herself as her eyes lingered a moment longer on the knight. I will not forget that name.

 Chapter 33: The Rising Sun

    In the past three years, sales of pine and beech wood had increased nearly tenfold. All across the Empire, little girls were growing up wearing crowns of mallows on their heads, playing at being Empress. They would carry wooden horses in their pockets and knight their brothers with sticks they found in the wood. ¡°I am the rising sun of Aros,¡± they would say, mimicking the words of the Empress. ¡°Give to me your fealty and it shall be returned to you in prosperity.¡±


    The manufacture of wooden toys, horses in particular, had therefore become a profitable business, even when the increase in taxes had lowered the margins.


    The breeding of blue roans, too, had seen exponential growth, with the dark patterned horses eclipsing all others in popularity. To have one in one¡¯s stables was seen as a sign of prestige, and no household of repute was complete without at least a few of the creatures.


    The price of blue dye had risen steeply, due to ever-increasing demand, and blue-dyed fabrics had become so costly that only the wealthiest of merchants could afford it. For a time, blue silk had become so highly coveted that the purchase of a warhorse was more economical than a bolt of the stuff, and even nobles had difficulty in procuring enough to fashion so much as a veil.


    Blue was, after all, the Empress¡¯s favorite color, and to wear it was to appear regal, powerful, enviable.


    Every girl from the the Ipsan Peninsula in the south to the Zauberwald in the north wanted, in some way or another, to emulate the Empress¡ªevery girl, of course, save Mouse¡ªand in this way, the Empress had had a significant impact on the economy of certain trades and on the Arosian economy as a whole, simply by virtue of being born a woman.


    It was a fact that was lost on men like the General, men who thought the only path to prosperity was through conquest. But a few fragile egos were not enough to undo the truth of the matter.


    In addition to her other contributions, the Empress¡¯s love of wine, red Arosian wine in particular, meant that more land was being devoted to the cultivation of vineyards than ever before; meanwhile, sweet white wines typical of the country¡¯s northern regions were growing in popularity abroad. Even if it was not the Empress¡¯s preferred variety, any Arosian wine that could be gotten was considered to be among the best.


    She had maintained a century-old accord with the Chatti, swearing to keep them as a protectorate, and honored her father¡¯s promise to help them strengthen their borders and rebuild after their shores had been ravaged by sea-faring invaders. And to better this, she had sent soldiers north, knights and men-at-arms, to instruct the Chatti in modern combat in the hopes that they would be able to defend themselves.


    Smithies had been sent to promote weapons manufacture, and armorers had taken Chatti apprentices. And for the services rendered by the crown, the Chatti had paid in salt. Mountains of it were sent south, enough so that the rest of the Empire could choose either to close their mines for a time or sell what they mined to neighboring nations.


    However, there remained many who were critical of the Empire¡¯s interference in the Chatti lands and what they perceived to be the over-generosity of the crown. Soldiers were expensive, after all, and knights even more so. And with each passing year, the number of skilled laborers was falling while the demand for their services was increasing.


    The red finger had claimed a significant portion of the population, taking first the young and the old before coming back and taking even young men like the Emperor. And though numbers were gradually recovering, it would be a long, slow process before the population of Aros returned to what it had been.


    As a result, working men were in higher demand than ever, giving laborers more power than the upper classes were accustomed to them having, and consequently, they had begun to negotiate higher wages.


    Add to this the growing number of yearly feasts and tournaments, the number of foreign nobles being housed at Kriftel, and the lands being bought up and given as gifts to the feal, and it was not difficult to see how the crown was like to soon outspend its purse.


    If she was not careful, the Empress would put the Empire in debt, and in doing so, give men like General Ralist due cause to rally against her and spread more liberally the kind of vitriol he was already want to speak in private.


    Mouse stared down into her murky cup of wine, turning it in her hand and watching the sediment rise from the bottom. She lifted the cup to her lips, grimacing at the sour taste of the drink as it coated her teeth.


    This was not Arosian wine, it was Vejlish, the kind watered down and given to soldiers. It was cheaply made and cheaply purchased, making it accessible to the lower classes, but with Vejle now on the brink of civil war, the purchase of anything produced there, wine or otherwise, had been prohibited.


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    This wine had likely been poured from old stores, purchased in bulk before the prohibition, but given the General¡¯s arrogance and his blatant disregard for the authority of the crown, Mouse would not be surprised to learn that it had been procured more recently than the law would allow.


    After telling the Empress about Sir Hugo, Mouse had been somewhat surprised to learn that he was not the only of Her Majesty¡¯s knights to be in residence at Pothes Mar. In fact, there seemed to be a pattern of men being siphoned away from the Empress¡¯s service, passing through Pothes Mar on their way home from the Chatti lands only to be told that their service was no longer required in the capital.


    It was a treachery that might have demanded the General¡¯s death, had his guilt been adequately proven; however, the Empress had chosen another form of punishment.


    Armed with the knowledge of Sir Conrad¡¯s request in regard to little Leopold, the Empress had decided to instead take with her to court Bertram, the General¡¯s oldest son. Not only would the General¡¯s heir serve as a hostage to keep his father from enacting further incursions upon the crown, but in removing the boy from the General¡¯s influence, the Empress would better be able to shape his ideals and proclivities as the next Lord of Pothes Mar.


    It was a clever scheme, thought Mouse, and the General certainly deserved no less. But she did wonder what would become of little Leopold once his brother had gone. Would he take the boy¡¯s place as his father¡¯s favorite, or would he be cast aside, banished to live in shadows so long they stretched all the way from Kriftel to Pothes Mar?


    Mouse brought the wine once again to her lips, the bitter taste of it lingering in her mouth just as the rancorous thoughts began to circle her mind.


    Why should one brother have all his father¡¯s love and the other take only what was left? Why should the convenience of the elder¡¯s birth make him superior to the younger?


    Mouse had tried not to think of the golden chain of mallows that Ludger had given her, of the story he had told her of Lothar¡¯s daughter, hidden in plain sight. But now, for some reason, she found it difficult to think of anything else.


    Mouse tried to bury her thoughts under more wine, but with each sip of the stuff, she found the sullen sense of anger that had gripped her growing ever stronger.


    With her head beginning to ache, she turned to speak to Lady Agatha in an attempt to distract herself in conversation. But the girl was too busy whispering and laughing with Lady Signy, sending her smiles to the knights who sat around the lower tables.


    At last, the supper was ended and the party broken up. Mouse picked up her cup and drained it, shuddering as the last of the acrid wine slid down her throat.


    She followed the Empress down the hall toward her chambers, stopping only momentarily at a window to search the sky for the moon, before continuing dutifully on.


    Upon entering her chambers, the Empress threw herself down into a blue embroidered chair that stood across from a dark cherrywood table and waited for Mouse to unclasp her jewelry and brush out her hair. Though the table belonged to Pothes Mar, the chair had undoubtedly been brought from Kriftel. It was a luxury such that few could afford, but the Empress did not like to go without her comforts.


    ¡°Disgusting pig of a man,¡± she muttered as Mouse unfastened her necklace, placing it gently upon the table. ¡°He is lucky he does not spend the next several weeks contemplating the silty bottom of the Yar.¡± Mouse remained silent, focusing on her work to distract from the pressure gathering in her temples. One by one she began pulling the pins from the Empress¡¯s hair before taking up an ivory comb which she began to work through the ends of the woman¡¯s long, dark tresses.


    Mouse looked into the glass at the Empress¡¯s dark countenance. She had had too much to drink, and her expression had become vacant and glassy.


    ¡°He cannot be satisfied with what he has been given,¡± the Empress continued bitterly. ¡°No, he must take and take and take.¡± Her eyes found Mouse¡¯s in the glass for a moment. ¡°Did he really think I would not know my own men?¡±


    Mouse changed the comb for a soft-bristled brush of polished brass that she pulled gently over the Empress¡¯s hair.


    ¡°He thinks me a fool,¡± the woman said in a low, sardonic voice. ¡°But he is the fool to think his treachery would go unpunished.¡± She pushed the brush away and stood, nearly knocking the chair over as she did, and raised her arms so that Mouse might undress her.


    Mouse set about the fastenings, quickly and deftly, before tugging gently at the dress and pulling it carefully over the Empress¡¯s head.


    ¡°What is it to rule over such pride and petulance?¡± the Empress scoff as Mouse folded down the blankets of the bed. ¡°What is it to wear the crown when those who purport to serve you seek only to serve themselves?¡± Mouse waited for the Empress to climb atop the feathers and settle herself among her pillows before folding the blankets up over her. She knew no answer was expected of her, so she only stood quietly by the bed, awaiting the Empress¡¯s command.


    Mouse had always thought of her resemblance to the Empress as a kind of punishment, an erasure of her own self.


    But she had been allowed to forget this from time to time, in the stolen moments of happiness and beauty, when she hid in the kitchen with Pritna drinking poor man¡¯s ale that tasted better than any wine she¡¯d ever known, or when she laid by the edge of the pond with the lazy blue Peticru resting his head upon her lap as she stroked his neck.


    And now, such moments could be found each time she picked up a bow with her left hand rather than her right, or when she held the little archer the Foilunder had carved for her, tracing the lines etched into it with her thumb, as she watched the Cherith birds gather in the courtyard.


    They were small things, but they were hers, and in them, she was reminded of herself.


    But what did the Empress have?


    ¡°Ring for some tea, Mouse,¡± the Empress said, leaning her head back onto the pillows and closing her eyes. ¡°I cannot sleep until I have had some tea.¡± Mouse crossed the room, but there was no rope to tug on. So instead, she waited a few moments until she was certain that the Empress had fallen asleep before walking over to the bed. She listened to the Emprss¡¯s gentle snores as she climbed under the covers next to her.


    She did not like that the woman should sleep alone.

 Chapter 34: A Parting Gift

    Mouse¡¯s morning had gone from strange to stranger. It had begun with her being informed that the Empress had already made her departure, despite having only been at Pothes Mar for a total of three days, and that all the knights formerly in her service would be expected to return to the capital at the same time as Mouse. How this was to be arranged was left to the imagination of all, especially seeing as how the rest of the party was to return on the morrow.


    Cedric had stepped in, just as Mouse was beginning to panic, and assured her that he and his men would see that things were handled, so long as she did not require an escort for the whole of the day. Mouse, grateful for the help, therefore abandoned her plans to go into the town, offering up her own amusement as a sacrifice to the gods of industry.


    Following this, Mouse had returned to her rooms, where she found that she had been left with only one maid between herself and Agatha and had again begun to panic when she noticed the state of disarray that the place had fallen into and began to conceive of the amount of work it would take to tidy the chambers, which she had frequented less and less in the Empress¡¯s presence, and see that everything was gathered and packed away into the trunks.


    She had begun a collection of scarves and other objects she was fairly certain had been borrowed from Lady Signy and had every intention of delivering them herself, when Agatha had come into the room, after having been gone all the morning, and made a most unexpected pronouncement.


    She would not be going back to Kriftel, she told Mouse, and in fact she should not expect to ever see her again. For Agatha had decided, in all the wisdom of her seventeen years, that she was going to run away and marry Sir Frederick.


    Mouse had blinked dumbly for a moment, trying to decide if this were not some sort of jape, before sending the maid away and attempting to talk reason into the girl. She had never heard of Sir Frederick before now, but she certainly learned a good deal in the next five minutes.


    Sir Frederick, as it turned out, was one of the General¡¯s knights. He was a skilled swordsman, a decent shot, and the faster swimmer of all the men at Pothes Mar. He had been knighted at one and twenty by Sir Strauss of Kenbruck and had won his first melee that same year. He could read, write, and even composed poetry from time to time.


    He was the oldest son of Lord Agneu, and though he had no brothers, he had two younger sisters, both of whom had already wed. He would inherit his father¡¯s lands and titles and also stood to inherit a quarry from his uncle.


    However, all of this naturally paled in comparison to the fact that he was terribly handsome.


    Mouse had not been surprised to learn that Agatha had managed to fall in love with a man previously unknown to her in a period of less than a fortnight, but how she had found the time to do so, Mouse could hardly imagine. As far as she knew, the girl had spent all of her time not attending to Mouse¡¯s failed attempts at diplomacy in the company of Lady Signy. But she supposed that there was much that may have escaped her notice.


    ¡°That is all very good,¡± said Mouse with all the patience of her nineteen years once Agatha had concluded her speech, ¡°and I should like you to know that I have no reason to wish for anything apart from your happiness and well-being any more than I have reason to believe Sir Frederick undeserving of your fondness.¡± Here, she paused to allow the girl a blushing smile. ¡°But have you perhaps forgotten that you are already engaged to be wed?¡±


    Here, Agatha had pouted and protested, saying that to deny her heart would be an offense most grave, until Mouse had reminded her that to deny the Empress may be an offense even greater.


    ¡°Even if you cannot think of your own future,¡± argued Mouse, ¡°I would urge you to think of Sir Frederick¡¯s, for should you choose to defy the Empress¡¯s will, you will both be complicit in the thing.¡±


    Agatha chewed her lip thoughtfully as Mouse continued.


    ¡°Should she decide to hold Sir Frederick in contempt, his knighthood may very well be revoked, and furthermore, his father¡¯s lands may be given away so that his son will have nothing to inherit.¡±


    Upon such arguments did Agatha at last relent to reconsider her decision, and it was with a conscience only partially obstructed that Mouse went to return the borrowed items to Lady Signy.


    Mouse stood now in one of the cavernous halls of Pothes Mar, frowning up at a tapestry of King Ceadda¡¯s ascent through the Fjaelles. It was a lovely tapestry, thickly woven with vibrant thread, but it was one that Mouse had already passed by twice.


    How was it, she wondered, that in all her time here, she had not managed a better orientation of the place? It seemed just as labyrinthine to her now as it had the first day she had arrived.


    It was as she stood here puzzling over which hall she might try next in the hopes that it would not lead her to the tapestry for a third time when a young maid approached.


    ¡°Lady Maudeleine?¡± the girl said tentatively, as she walked slowly up to Mouse.


    Mouse turned and smiled at the girl, who bowed slightly and held out a small parcel wrapped in red linen.


    ¡°My lady sends a gift for you,¡± she said.


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    Mouse lifted her eyebrows in surprise as she took the parcel from the girl, setting down the objects she had been carrying so that she might open it. She had not expected to receive a gift, and she found that she was quite excited.


    Inside the linen wrapping was a small wooden box that fit easily into Mouse¡¯s hand, and inside of this was a small glass vial filled with some dark glossy liquid.


    ¡°It is a beauty tincture,¡± the maid explained, as Mouse took the vial from the box to study it, ¡°popular among the women in the eastern courts.¡±


    Mouse held the vial up so that the light might pass through it. It had appeared almost black as it lay inside the box, but in the soft glow of the braziers, it looked more a dark shade of violet.


    ¡°It is called nightshade,¡± the maid said, as Mouse turned the vial from side to side, admiring the way the color seemed to change. ¡°A drop in the eyes or upon the cheek is said to give one a fetching glow.¡±


    ¡°It is beautiful,¡± Mouse murmured before placing the vial back inside the box. ¡°Do be sure to give your mistress my thanks.¡±


    ¡°Certainly, my lady,¡± the girl smiled with a small bow.


    Mouse watched the maid go before taking the vial back out of the box to admire it once again. She was fascinated by the color of it, and even though she did not think herself like to use it, she thought it may make a pretty decoration for her table. It was a lovely gift, she thought to herself as she gathered up those objects which she had set upon the ground. She only wished she had thought to ask who had sent it.


    She might have followed after the maid, remembering the borrowed items, but another conveniently appeared not but a few moments later, and, coming at once to Mouse¡¯s aid, promised the objects¡¯ safe return.


    The final act of Mouse¡¯s strange day took place that evening in the great hall. The tables had been cleared away from the dais where a puppet theater had been erected, and the benches had been arranged neatly so that all might see.


    The play that night was that of Sir Sigfrid and King Ceadda. It was one which Mouse had seen a thousand times but one which she would gladly watch a thousand more.


    The story began in Ribe, just south of the Zauberwald, where King Ceadda had joined his wife, Asta, to witness the birth of their first child. After the child had been born, the king and his knights began their return to the capital. But it was not long into their journey that the king and his men were set upon and driven apart by a band of Braquish soldiers.


    The king managed to escape into the woods with Sir Sigfrid by his side, where two men took refuge in an abandoned watch tower. Knowing that the enemy was not far behind them, King Ceadda bid Sir Sigfrid slay him, that he might die at the hands of a noble and steadfast Arosian knight rather than that of his foe. However, Sir Sigfrid refused the command, saying that he had another plan.


    Donning the king¡¯s robes, Sir Sigfrid fastened King Ceadda into his armor and told him to hide in the wood. He then went out of the tower, just as the enemy was approaching, and relinquished himself to their charge. The Braquish soldiers, thinking they had captured the king of Aros, spent the night making merry in their camp, while Sir Sigfrid patiently bided his time.


    Throughout the course of the night, Sir Sigfrid learned that the enemy was planning a siege on the capital, and when the moment was right, he struck, freeing himself using one of his captor¡¯s own swords and making his escape to the Yar, where he plunged himself into the river, cloak and all.


    The Braquish soldiers, seeing this, counted it no loss, for they knew that the man was good as dead. After all, the current of the Yar was so mighty and the robes the man had been wearing so heavy that there could be no chance of his survival.


    But Sir Sigfrid, strengthened by years of wearing heavy plate, managed to keep himself afloat long enough to reach the shores of Hallovie. There, he told the villagers what had passed, and men were sent north to find out the king while others rode with Sir Sigfrid to the capital to warn of the impending siege.


    By the time the Braquish soldiers arrived at the walls of the capital, both King Ceadda and Sir Sigrid were awaiting them, along with an army of ten thousand men. The enemy, surprised to see the king alive and the city so well guarded, lost the will to fight at once, and having lost faith in their general for being so deceived, willingly gave themselves over to the king.


    Like all Arosian tales, the story was only as true as its parts, and like most, there was more than one way it could be said to end.


    In another version of the story, King Ceadda had been found by the Braquish soldiers, wearing Sir Sigfrid¡¯s armor, and killed. Upon learning of this, Sir Sigfrid had decided that rather than grant the enemy the satisfaction of knowing that they had killed king of Aros, he would continue the ruse indefinitely.


    With the blessing of Queen Asta, he lived his remaining days as the man whom he had served, carrying with him to his grave the secret of his identity.


    Most people tended to prefer the first ending; it was more patriotic, in a way, and certainly a deal more uplifting. But tonight¡¯s performance, Mouse was surprised to find, featured the second ending.


    Mouse had a funny sort of feeling as she watched it, a feeling that followed her to bed. She could not explain what it was, but it was very much like the feeling she had had the first time she had watched a man fall from his horse. It was the aching in her bones the day before she caught a chill, the moment of imperceptible fear before a dog unexpectedly bit the hand that was stroking it.


    She tossed and turned all night, the funny feeling niggling at her and making it difficult to sleep. Agatha was late to return again, and Mouse found herself wondering whether the girl had changed her mind and decided to run away after all.


    At one point she woke up suddenly, unsure of what had roused her, and found that she had thrown her blankets off. She grabbed at them and pulled them up to her chin, shivering in cold of her drafty rooms.


    It was still dark out, she could tell even from behind the bed hangings, but she had the most unsettling sensation that someone was there in the room with her on the other side of the curtains. The hair on her arms stood up, as though alerting her to some foreign presence that was lingering close by.


    Mouse wrenched the blankets up over her head and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, curling herself into a ball and willing herself back to sleep.


    When at last the morning came, Mouse found that that same funny feeling had followed her all the way into tomorrow. She lay quietly for a few minutes, hoping that the feeling would pass, but when it did not, decided she must rise nonetheless.


    She pushed aside the bed curtains and climbed from her feathers, the floor squishing beneath her feet as she did so.


    Mouse looked down in confusion, the sensation beneath her toes strange and unexpected, before looking up to survey the scene before her in something of wonder. There, scattered all across the floor of her rooms, were a thousand small white flowers.


    Mouse blinked, uncertain whether what she was seeing was real or imagined, before bending down to retrieve one of the flowers. Five delicate round petals trimmed in pink looked back at her.


    It was a mallow.

 Chapter 35: The Dog That Bites

    Mouse stood with one foot on the step of the carriage, using one arm to brace herself on the door and the other to shield her eyes from the sun.


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡±


    Mouse frowned at the grey-eyed guardsman who had just ridden up from the front of the line.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± she asked. ¡°Why have we stopped?¡±


    Bo glanced forward a moment, uncertainty dancing in his eyes, before turning back to Mouse.


    ¡°The road¡¯s been flooded,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re looking for a way around.¡±


    Mouse sighed in disappointment. Going around meant going back, and that meant their journey would be even further delayed than it already had been. Their troubles had begun with a cracked wheel and a lame horse, and this was on top of the fact that they were moving at a considerably slower pace slower than that by which they had come; their numbers were far greater now, and though Mouse was proud of the part she had played in seeing that the Empress¡¯s missing knights were returned, she was somewhat less pleased by how much longer it would take them to reach the capital.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± Agatha¡¯s voice came from inside the carriage as she leaned across the bench. ¡°Why have we stopped?¡±


    Mouse ducked inside the door, pulling it closed behind her as she sunk into her seat.


    ¡°The road¡¯s been flooded,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re looking for a way around.¡±


    Agatha stuck out her lip, plucking a mallow from the seat next to her and tucking it up with the others she had gathered from their floor that morning into the braid that formed a golden crown around her head.


    The mallows had been left there as a gesture from Sir Frederick, a parting gift to Agatha¡ªor at least that is what Mouse had decided. Though her mind had instinctively traced the lines back to the capital, to the little page girl standing at her door with a mallow in her fist, Johannes¡¯ green eyes and purple cheek as he held out a pink-tipped flower to her, Mouse refused to acknowledge that any of these things might be connected.


    It was all coincidence, she told herself, her mind playing tricks on her, looking for patterns that were not there and assigning meaning to the most inconsequential of acts.


    She looked at Agatha, the girl''s cheeks stained from crying and her sleeves damp with tears. The mallows were for her.


    After some time, the carriage lurched forward, springing into motion once again as the caravan slowly turned back northward. They would have to go by way of Hallovie, Mouse suspected, passing directly through the town until they could circle back to the main road somewhere past the point where it had been flooded. How far they were, it was difficult to say, but judging from how long they had already been on the road and had small the rise of the Fjaelles had become, it was like to add at least half a day to their journey.


    Mouse looked out the window as the carriage bumped along the uneven road, rutted here and there where wagon wheels that had sunk into the rain-softened earth were now memorialized in the hardened dirt. She counted the furrows in the earth, watching the green, grain, and fallow fields turn into a dense wood before turning back to field again.


    Across from her, Agatha sat with her head resting against the door, drifting in and out of sleep as her head rocked from side to side with the movement of the carriage.


    Mouse had managed to bring the girl around to reason, at least for the time, explaining that the most likely means of throwing off her engagement to Lord Hildimar, and therefore the best course of action, was not to run away, but to return to Kriftel and there court the Empress¡¯s favor. ¡°If Sir Frederick is willing to forgo a dowry,¡± she had explained, ¡°the match may prove a better investment than your marrying Hildimar. Make yourself agreeable to the woman, and with any luck, her sense of economy will do the rest.¡±


    Though Mouse had congratulated herself on such a plan, she now felt a sense of responsibility toward it. If the thing were to fail, she would have herself to blame and forever carry the guilt of Agatha¡¯s unhappiness.


    On the other hand, if it were to succeed, that meant there may be a chance for Mouse¡¯s happiness as well. For somewhere in a hidden corner of her heart, she clung to the hope that one day, when her duty had concluded itself, her usefulness to the court worn out and her presence more a burden than a convenience, she would travel north across the narrow sound and be united once and forever with her Foilunder.


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    She looked at the golden-haired girl slumbering across from her, her brow furrowing in dream as a murmur escaped her lips, and wondered where she was right now.


    Did she go somewhere in dream as Mouse so often did, somewhere that smoke rose from the chimney of a great stone house while a voice drifted on the breeze singing words she did not know?


    Mouse reached into her pocket, taking out the small wooden box and lifting the lid. Inside, the glass vial shimmered, the sunlight spilling in through the window to reveal the rich violet hue of the dark liquid inside.


    A gift, the maid had said it was, but from whom? Mouse bit her lip, admonishing herself once again for failing to ask. It must have been sent either by Lady Margarethe or Lady Signy, that much she knew, but it would put her more at ease to know that it had come by the former.


    Though Lady Signy had made certain attempts to make herself amenable, her loose tongue and brazen dishonesty in regard to her family was enough to lose Mouse¡¯s trust and convince her that the two would never be friends. Add to this the girl¡¯s role in encouraging Lady Agatha¡¯s doomed affair with Sir Frederick, whether through careless neglect or deliberate machination, and Mouse could see little to redeem her.


    Mouse watched the shifting hue of the dark liquid in the vial as a cloud passed overhead, momentarily blocking out the sun. It was beautiful but changeable, dark and dull one moment and glimmering the next, as if concealing some sort of hidden threat.


    She was tempted to unstop the lid, to pour out a drop and dab it onto her cheeks as the maid had suggested, but she was afraid that the moment she did so, the carriage would pass over a stone or through a puddle, and the contents of the vial would be lost.


    The carriage was now headed back in the direction of Pothes Mar, the Fjaelles growing taller rather than shrinking, and the earth growing more lush.


    Mouse had been glad to leave the place. To her, the visit had been little more than a humiliation punctuated by her inability to secure an audience with the General, something the Empress had achieved almost at once upon her arrival.


    Mouse did not have the confidence of one born to rule; she reeked of subservience and could no more easily command a man¡¯s respect than she could command an army. And the awkwardness that followed in the wake of the Empress¡¯s arrival had subverted whatever rapport she had managed to build between herself and the General¡¯s household. Were it not for the discovery of Sir Hugo, Mouse might have considered the entire thing a failure, but as it was, she could return to Kriftel with her head held high.


    Her one regret, more than disappointing her duty, was that she had not had the chance to apologize to Sir Conrad before leaving¡ªor at least to express her regret that it was Bertram and not Leopold who would be joining them in the capital. She felt nearly as sorry for the knight as she did for the boy, and she made a solemn promise to herself that she would do whatever she could to help little Leopold, should help ever be required.


    After an hour or two traveling back the way they had come, the caravan once again came to a stop, before taking up a road that turned eastward. The sun was behind them now, but they were riding away from the Fjaelles, meaning their light would last longer.


    Mouse closed the little wooden box, tucking it into her pocket, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.


    She was thinking of the Empress and how odd it was that she should send Mouse north to Pothes Mar only to then ride north herself a few days later. What had been so important that she would abandon Lord Marius just as he was arriving and out her own decoy?


    But before Mouse could come up with any answer to this, she found herself once again on Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge, watching the blue water of the mighty Manau flow beneath her. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the low stone wall of the bridge and gazed into the milky blue water.


    Her heart felt heavy and sad as she stood there, though she did not know why, and as she watched the river course below her, she felt the crushing weight of an irrepressible loneliness. She did not bother to look across the bridge for the great stone house. She did not listen for the sound of music. She simply stood there looking down into the water. How sad it was, she thought to herself, to be a little mouse so frightened and alone in the world, so timid and helpless.


    She reached behind herself, to grab her tail for comfort, but she could not seem to find it. It was in that moment when she was distractedly grasping for her tail that someone crept up behind her and gave her a great push.


    Mouse felt her body lurch forward as she woke with a jolt. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest as she looked around, reorienting herself to reality.


    She was in the carriage, she realized, and it had once again come to a stop.


    Agatha blinked drearily from the other side of the bench, stretching out her arms as her mouth opened into a yawn.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡± she asked sleepily as she drew back the curtain. ¡°Are we there?¡±


    ¡°I do not think so,¡± Mouse said, craning her neck as she peered out the window. There were a few small buildings scattered outside, but not the kind that stood on the grounds of Kriftel.


    No, they were decidedly not at the capital, but where they were was more difficult to say.


    Mouse opened the door, poking out her head to try and get a view of the road ahead, before pushing it open a bit wider, just enough so that she could wedge her shoulders out.


    ¡°Get back inside!¡± one of the guardsmen suddenly barked, causing Mouse to start and nearly lose her balance. ¡°And keep the door shut!¡±


    Mouse quickly ducked inside and fell back into her seat, pulling the door closed behind her. Agatha looked at her wide-eyed, clearly just as alarmed as Mouse by the guard¡¯s unexpected outburst.


    Mouse stared out the window, that funny feeling once again tugging at her¡ªthe chill about to set in, the dog about to bite.


    ¡°Agatha,¡± she said quietly, her mind returning to the flooded road that had diverted them here. ¡°When is the last time it rained?¡¯

 Chapter 36: And Mallows Round Their Necks

    Mouse stared out the window of the carriage, her fingers busying themselves with the winding and unwinding of a piece of thread around a pin which she had untangled from the nest of her hair.


    They had not moved in some minutes, and it was like to be a good deal longer before they did again. It was a barricade that had stopped them, a protest of the servitum. It was a matter which had been a topic of much discourse the past many months, not only among the Council and the courts, but among the common people as well.


    Rumor had begun to spread that there were talks of extending the servitum, an increase in the amount of labor owed an overlord by his fief, and such rumors had, quite understandably, been met with a good deal of outrage and a growing number of protests.


    All this was despite the fact that no official word had been spoken on the matter, but the people would not wait for their abuse to be sanctioned before rising against it.


    There were some two hundred men on the road in front of them now, a few miles past the gates of Hallovie, but if they were not dealt with swiftly, their numbers would only swell. The decision had therefore been made that they should pass through as quickly as possible, before the retinue became even more heavily outnumbered. For even though the guard were mounted, their belts hung with Arosian steel, their foe was armed with righteous indignation.


    ¡°Berries bought by the bushel bring big black bears bellowing through the birch,¡± said Agatha, ¡°and the bards who bartered for the berries had better beware, for the bear¡¯s bellow is bested by its bite.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s fingers methodically wound the length of thread around the prongs of the pin as she watched a boy run barefoot along the road, stopping just long enough to gawk at Sir Hugo before continuing on.


    The knight bore the crest of the Arosian sun, having left the red at Pothes Mar, and sat in all his gleaming glory atop his tawny charger, his visor open so that he might better survey the scene. Around his neck hung a chain of small white mallows which Agatha had fashioned for him, though how he had managed to ride all this way without the thing falling to pieces, Mouse could not begin to understand. It reminded her of the old Arosian song, the part where the heroes rode home from battle "decked in glory, and mallows ''round their necks," and indeed, there was something about the knight, with his light brown eyes and unruly lick of hair, as though even heaven itself seemed to understand just how good he was.


    ¡°It is your turn,¡± Agatha said, her voice breaking through Mouse¡¯s reverie.


    She had been musing once again over the fact that it been days, closer to weeks, since it had last rained, and she could not help but feel that the flooded highway, though possibly the work of some accident of nature, was just as likely to owe to a body of more sinister intent.


    ¡°Contrary to careful chiding,¡± she said, her eyes following the barefoot boy as he receded toward the front of the line, ducking behind a bush, ¡°careless children cave to the coaxing of cats, carrying cream and curdled cheese to the canonically curious creatures,¡± she paused, watching the boy reappear out the other side of the shrub, ¡°and though countless crafty charlatans are content with the constant creation of¡ª¡±


    ¡°That does not begin with a ¡®c,¡¯¡± Agatha suddenly interrupted. Mouse turned to look at the girl with a furrowed brow. ¡°Charlatans,¡± Agatha said. ¡°It begins with an ¡®s.¡¯¡±


    Mouse drew her mouth into a line.


    ¡°It most certainly does not,¡± she said, unwinding the thread from around the pin. ¡°It begins with a ¡®c.¡¯¡±


    But Agatha was insistent in her argument.


    ¡°Shawl, shoe, shame,¡± she said. ¡°They all begin with an ¡®s.¡¯¡±


    Mouse pressed her lips together.


    ¡°¡®Charlatan¡¯ comes from the Han dialect,¡± she said, ¡°and I promise you on a mustard seed that it begins with a ¡®c.¡¯¡±


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    Agatha shook her head in stubborn defiance.


    ¡°You do not have a mustard seed to promise on,¡± she protested, "and ''charlatans'' begins with an ''s.''"


    Mouse sighed, her irritation growing.


    ¡°If I had a book,¡± she said, ¡°I would show you that it does indeed begin with a ''c,'' but seeing as I do not, you will have to wait until we are returned to Kriftel for me to carry my point. Now, will you allow me to continue or not?¡±


    Agatha considered this for a moment, her arms folded across her lap.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she conceded at last. ¡°But I will not count the word ¡®charlatan,¡¯ and you must begin anew.¡±


    Mouse looked away, pressing the prongs of the pin into the soft flesh of her fingertips.


    ¡°Very well,¡± she said. ¡°Caught within the confines of a cramped and cushioned carriage, a childish courtier, through a choir of complaints and criticisms, created a condemnable cacophony, the crescendo of which consequently caused considerable colic in her cage-weary and careworn companion.¡±


    Even without looking the girl, Mouse could feel Agatha¡¯s frown.


    Mouse¡¯s gaze swept across the surrounding landscape as the silence that had settled over the carriage was interrupted by the sound of distant shouts. On a distant hill some three miles off, she could see Hallovie. The place had been built for the simple purpose of collecting taxes on the surrounding farmland and keeping an eye on those who might pass between Pothes Mar and Silkeborg, hoping to avoid the toll, but like many villages in the empire, it had quickly outgrown itself, and the result was a town that had expanded upward rather than out, building on every available scrap of land and filling in every gap leading up to the curtain of the keep with angular buildings that hugged the narrow, sloping streets.


    If she craned her neck, she could just make out the gates leading into the city, and though she could not see them from such a distance, she knew that atop those gates stood four points, a herald to all those who might pass through. Beware all who enter, they warned, for here dwells the Empress¡¯s justice, and those who abuse it will be subject to the law, even unto death.


    Mouse had stopped at Hallovie once before on a visit north, back when she was no more than a child, and she would forever remember it as the place where she had first seen a sow¡¯s head parted from its body, hanging rather grotesquely, at least to her seven-year-old eyes, in the window of a butcher. She thought she would be sick at the sight of it and imagined that she would never again be able to eat pork of any kind for all the rest of her life. However, such a notion had dissolved the moment she discovered the divineness that was potatoes crisped in bacon fat.


    The carriage suddenly lurched back into motion, sending Mouse¡¯s shoulder painfully into the doorframe. She had switched places with Agatha after the girl complained of a headache from traveling so long backward, despite having spent most of the journey asleep, and though there was certainly enough room for two to sit on one bench, they both agreed that it was a good deal more comfortable to sit catercorner.


    The velvet curtains swayed with the movement of the carriage as it bumped along the uneven road, the door rattling lightly on its hinges.


    ¡°A dozen dirty dogs dodged the drunken, dozing doorman and dug determinedly in the dirt, destroying the dahlias, the daisies, and the dancing duchies," said Agatha.


    Mouse closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Outside, she could hear the din of the protest growing louder, the sound of men shouting and wood splintering, of objects being hurled and blades being drawn.


    She did not like a crowd. At the best of times they were unpredictable, and at the worst, deadly. Emboldened by their numbers, angry men became violent ones, and grievances against the crown became justifiable cause for belligerence.


    ¡°Even the erudite eschew effective employment in the evenings,¡± Mouse said, hoping to distract from her growing disease, ¡°electing to engage in erotic entertainments and¡ª"


    There was a loud thump, as something striking the side of the carriage.


    ¡°¡ªand enact effusive efforts to epitomize the ever elusive¡ª¡±


    There was another thump. This time, Mouse opened her eyes and looked out the window.


    On either side of the carriage, a thin line of guardsmen held back men armed with tools of the field and baskets of rotten produce which they hurled at the passing caravan. Mouse looked out into their angry faces and felt a wave of nausea swell inside her stomach as she forced herself down lower into her seat.


    She was frightened.


    She watched a man pull his arm back and send a cabbage flying at the head of one of the knights, only narrowly missing him, while another chased a hog into the road in the hopes that the beast might frighten the horses and derail the caravan. Dogs barking at the heels of their masters snapped and lunged.


    Mouse¡¯s eyes went to Sir Hugo, the man riding along, undaunted by the fray, with a chain of mallows around his neck, a beacon of fortitude in the chaos. His head turned slightly toward her, as though he could sense her fear, and it was in that moment that Mouse noticed two men pushing through the crowd toward him.


    Mouse opened her mouth to cry out, but before she could, the men had broken through the line, one grabbing the reins of Sir Hugo¡¯s mount, trying to wrench them from the knight¡¯s grasp, while the other came up from behind and, finding the opening in the knight¡¯s armor just below his arm, drove a hack-made spear up into his flesh.

 Chapter 37: The Silver Needle

    Mouse held Sir Hugo¡¯s head cradled in her lap as the wagon bounced over the road toward the hilltop keep.


    ¡°Please do not die,¡± she whispered through a torrent of tears that flowed quietly down her cheeks. She looked down at the man who lay across her lap, matted swirls of brown hair clinging to his pale, damp face.


    ¡°Please,¡± she begged in a voice soft and desperate, ¡°please do not die.¡±


    But the knight could not hear her; he was somewhere else, a place no one could reach him, a place where life and death joined hands, each weighing their claim to his fragile existence.


    The cab tilted from side to side as the wagon climbed the narrow winding streets of Hallovie, the guardsman kneeling beside Sir Hugo cursing under his breath as he pressed a wad of cloth into open gash beneath the man¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Why won¡¯t you stop bleeding, you bastard?¡± he murmured in anguished frustration as the knight, on the fringes of consciousness drew short, shallow breaths.


    Mouse bit her lip as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Her skirts, painted with the knight¡¯s blood, clung wetly to her legs.


    What they had left behind them on the road just east of Hallovie, Mouse could not say.


    She had sprung from the carriage and run to the knight the very moment he had fallen, lifting his head in her arms and pressing the fabric of her skirts into his wound to try and stop the bleeding. His visor was raised, though Mouse did not remember lifting it, and he had looked up at her, an expression of surprise in his wide brown eyes, as though he himself had no idea how he had ended up in the middle of the road, lying in a puddle of crushed mallows and his own blood.


    Mouse had no notion of any danger to herself, even as the guardsmen fell upon Sir Hugo¡¯s assailants. And in truth, it did not occur to her that she might fear for anything apart from the man¡¯s life, the man whose light brown eyes searched hers for answers, even if he could not form the words to ask.


    But that was before the pain had set in, and the shock. The amount of blood pouring from Sir Hugo¡¯s side was monstrous, and if he was not tended to by a surgeon at once, he would die. But this was not the battlefield, and there was no surgeon among them, not even a barber.


    Mouse had looked up in desperation, the scuffle of feet and clash of steel around her drowning out her cries for help.


    She kept her arms wrapped around the knight, her fingers laced together beneath his arm as she held the balled up linen of her skirts into the place the where spear had punctured his flesh. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength, the muscles in her back squeezing together tightly the way they did every time she drew the bow.


    Finally, after what had felt like an eternity but had probably been no more than a minute or two at most, Cedric had come with another of the guard and lifted Sir Hugo into a wagon, whereupon they turned at once for Hallovie.


    A rider was sent ahead, Cedric told them, to warn of their arrival and have the surgeon prepare to receive the man.


    No sooner had they arrived at the step of the keep then the guardsman jumped from the wagon and, taking Sir Hugo beneath the arms, conveyed him, with the help of the coachman, into an antechamber near the front of the hall where the surgeon awaited them.


    The antechamber was dark, too dark for a surgery. The only light, apart from a pair of braziers and a row of candles, came from an east-facing window and the fire that had been lit in the hearth.


    The surgeon, a small, balding man with thoughtful features and smooth if slightly drooping skin, looked the knight over, no doubt already estimating his chances of survival.


    ¡°Keep the pressure,¡± he said, ¡°but remove the plate.¡±


    Mouse hurried to help in the removal of the knight''s bevor and pauldron, her fingers trembling as she undid the leather stays that held his breastplate in place.


    ¡°No mail?" the surgeon asked, eyeing the injured man as he was eased onto the table.


    The guardsman shook his head.


    ¡°We saw no need for it,¡± he said, grunting with effort as he lifted the knight''s legs onto the table, ¡°coming on the highway from Pothes Mar as we were.¡±


    The surgeon rubbed his chin, motioning for the apprentice to cut away the gambeson.


    Mouse watched as the young man with sharp features and dark, cropped hair, worked his blade quickly through the thick layers of fabric around the knight¡¯s shoulder before fetching a bottle of wine from the cabinet.


    ¡°Wine comes later,¡± the surgeon said as he rolled up his sleeves, ¡°after the wound has been closed." He licked his lips and carefully began to peel away the blood-soaked dressing beneath the knight''s arm. "Nothing inside, I take it,¡± he said to the guardsman, who shook his head in reply.


    Sir Hugo¡¯s chest rose and fell quickly as he sucked in shallow gasps of air.


    ¡°More light,¡± the surgeon ordered, and the apprentice at once brought a candle.


    ¡°Following an assessment of the wounded region,¡± the surgeon said instructively to the apprentice, "I shall now apply a ligature.¡±


    ¡°A ligature?¡± echoed the apprentice. ¡°You will not cauterize the wound? Renau usually¡ª¡±


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    ¡°Renau is a barber,¡± the surgeon sneered, ¡°and not a very good one at that.¡± He glanced up at Sir Hugo¡¯s pale face before squinting back at the wound. ¡°More light,¡± he said, licking his lips as he stuck his fingers into the gash beneath the knight¡¯s arm.


    The knight thrashed, a cry of pain bursting from his lips.


    ¡°Hold him!¡± the surgeon ordered the guardsman. ¡°Unless you¡¯d rather he die here and now from loss of blood.¡± The guardsman heeded him, pinning down Sir Hugo''s right shoulder while the coachman held his legs.


    ¡°I¡¯ve stopped the artery with a thumb,¡± the surgeon said, raising his voice over the knight¡¯s fretful moans. ¡°Slows the bleeding until it¡¯s been tied. In this case, we¡¯ve no time for vinegar or other such nonsense; we¡¯ll go directly to the ligature. Catgut,¡± he said, holding out a palm as he awaited a length of sinew.


    Mouse watched the surgeon¡¯s long, delicate fingers disappear into the gash in Sir Hugo¡¯s side as the knight groaned and gurgled in agony. She felt her stomach roil and pressed an arm over her mouth against the bile rising in her throat.


    The linens that had been placed beneath the knight¡¯s left shoulder were already soaked through with blood, the excess of which dripped steadily from the corner of the fabric onto the floor of the antechamber.


    ¡°Hold him fast, gentlemen,¡± the surgeon warned as the knight¡¯s body writhed beneath him.


    Mouse kept her arm pressed over her mouth, the smell of blood thick in her nostrils.


    ¡°Give us a hand, then,¡± the guardsman called to her, nodding his head toward the table. Mouse quickly obeyed, crossing the room and putting all her weight onto the knight, even as she felt his hand seize her, his fingers digging into her arm.


    Once the ligature had been tied, the surgeon stood back, frowning.


    ¡°A cautery indeed,¡± he said with a sigh, wiping his bloodied hands on his surcoat and sending the young apprentice to fetch the splinter from the hearth.


    The tip of the splinter glowed red as the surgeon bent over his patient. ¡°This is very like to be worst part,¡± he said to the guardsman before he began. ¡°Your friend here is certain to feel it, and I daresay he won¡¯t care much for the sensation.¡± He looked across the table at Mouse. ¡°Take the young woman out of here,¡± he said with a jerk of his head.


    But Mouse shook her head in protest, pulling away from the tall dark-haired apprentice who took her by the shoulders.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Please, I want to help.¡± She bit her lip, praying that her tears would not begin anew and betray her weakness.


    The surgeon considered her a moment, his eyes drifting to her arm where Sir Hugo''s fingers still gripped her.


    ¡°Very well,¡± he said, ¡°but I¡¯ll have no fainting spells or hysterics.¡±


    Mouse nodded, swallowing down the fear that tightened around her throat.


    What happened next, she would not soon forget. The cautery was, as the surgeon had warned, the worst of it, the smell of singed flesh choking the air and the knight¡¯s cries of pain filling the small room. Following this, the surgeon had closed the wound with a length of catgut and a silver needle, his most prized possession, which he claimed would help stay a fever. Mouse hoped that he was right but said a silent prayer nonetheless, in case the needle was not enough.


    Mouse had been sent away before the final stitch could be tied, as the wine was still heating on the hearth, on the premise that she herself was looking rather too pale. By the time she left the room, there were marks on her arm from where the knight¡¯s fingers had dug into her sleeve, and her cheeks were streaked with silent tears.


    There was some solace to be had in the fact that the man''s lungs had remained unpunctured, as the surgeon had observed to them, and that his plate had stopped the spear from running clear through his shoulder and up into his neck. But still, to see a man in such suffering, especially a man as noble and decent as Sir Hugo, was a terrible thing, and one which Mouse hoped never to repeat.


    ¡°Take some rest, my lady,¡± the apprentice said, leading Mouse into the hallway. ¡°One of the maids can find you a bath, I¡¯m sure, and somewhere you might lie down.¡±


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°I thank you,¡± she said, ¡°but I should rather stay and see if Sir Hugo¡ª¡± she paused, unable to finish the thought. ¡°To see that Sir Hugo is well," she said.


    ¡°Do as you like,¡± the apprentice said, "but you might at least wish to change your clothes.¡±


    Mouse looked down at her skirts as the apprentice disappeared back into the surgery. They were wet through with Sir Hugo¡¯s blood, and her bodice, too, was marked with streaks of dark red.


    She looked at her hands, turning them over. Blood covered them front and back, working itself underneath her fingernails and drying in the cracks of her skin. She had seen men wounded before, their bones splintered and bodies broken, taking a lance in the joust or a mace in the melee. But she had never before held a man in her arms as he danced between life and death and felt him slowly begin to slip away.


    She felt herself begin to tremble with a renewed sense of dread, as if for a time, however brief, she had forgotten the horror of what had happened.


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡± she heard someone say. She looked up to see Bo coming down the hallway toward her.


    Mouse shook her head, her chin quivering, as a new torrent of tears began to spill down her cheeks.


    ¡°Come on, then,¡± the guardsman said gently, catching her under the arms and helping her to a window ledge a few feet away.


    Mouse felt a wave of sadness and helplessness wash over, not unlike what she had felt when Jasper had been taken, as she sat staring down into her lap, looking at her bloodied hands as she sat quietly beside the guardsman.


    ¡°Hugo¡¯s been through worse, you know,¡± Bo said in a low voice somewhat lacking in its usual levity. ¡°It¡¯ll take more than a hack-made spear and some Caldiffan sod to kill him.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s head was hung low, but she lifted it now, blinking at the guardsman.


    ¡°That man,¡± she said in a kind of vacant surprise, ¡°he is from Caldiff?¡±


    The guardsman nodded.


    ¡°Was, more like,¡± he said. ¡°Not that it matters.¡±


    Mouse drew her brow together. She tried to think back to the men who had assailed the knight, to try and puzzle out what it had been about them that had struck her as so odd. But every time she did so, all she could see in her mind¡¯s eye was the knight falling from his horse, landing on the road in a pile of crushed flowers as the earth drank up his blood.


    An involuntary shiver ran through her.


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± said Bo, nudging himself closer to Mouse. ¡°Why don¡¯t you close your eyes for a spell, and I¡¯ll let you know the very minute the surgeon comes to give us the good word. That is, if Hugo doesn¡¯t insist on coming himself.¡±


    Mouse looked at the guardsman in his arming jacket, studying the freckles that dotted the skin beneath his eyes. His expression was soft, his grey eyes steady and reassuring, even if there was a concealed look of worry in them.


    She might have asked what had happened at the protest after they had left, what had become of Agatha and the boy, Bertram. But she felt herself buckling under a sudden wave of exhaustion, the overwhelm of it all pressing down on her like a weight. Maybe Bo had the right of it, she thought as her shoulders began to sag and her body slumped toward him. Maybe she should just close her eyes for a few moments.


    ¡°There, now,¡± Bo said, his voice little more than a whisper as Mouse allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder and her eyes drift shut. Her breath began to slow, even as her body jerked, resisting sleep. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Mouse,¡± the guardsman said softly, taking her hand in his and squeezing it tightly. ¡°Everything¡¯s alright.¡±

 Chapter 38: The Bluff

    Mouse sat in a small wooden chair by the window of the solar as the morning light danced across the floor, the warmth of the sun on her back a reminder that it would soon be time to go.


    For three nights they had remained at Hallovie, and for three nights she had sat in the little wooden chair, watching the knight as he slept. She had seldom left his side, save to bathe and change her dress, preferring to remain nearby in the case that he might wake.


    Sure enough, the knight would rouse from time to time, his light brown eyes seeking Mouse and fixing her there for a time, before he would drift back into the realm of the unconscious.


    This had been enough to give Mouse cause for hope, to justify her staunch belief that the knight would return to himself in due course. His left shoulder had been ruined, the muscles torn and mutilated by the savage end of the spear, and it would likely never again bear the weight of a shield, but even now, there was some color returning to his complexion, and the surgeon had been generous in voicing his satisfaction that the knight had shown no sign of fever.


    Forty days it would take the blood to clean itself and the wound to heal, the surgeon had said, forty days the knight must lie in the small solar of Hallovie. And though this sounded an exceedingly long time to Mouse, who fretted over the knight¡¯s being left alone where no one was known to him, she was assured that it would pass much more slowly for herself than it would for the man who, above all else, was in desperate want of rest.


    Even with such reassurances, however, it was with great reluctance that Mouse rose from her little wooden chair when the hour of their departure at last arrived. She crossed to the bed where the knight lay in repose, watching the movement of his eyes through the thin veil of his lids, before removing the ribbon from her sleeve and tying it around his wrist.


    ¡°So that he will not think we have abandoned him,¡± she murmured quietly. And with a final silent goodbye, she left the warmth of the solar for the crisp morning air.


    As the small party rode out from the gates of Hallovie, Mouse cast a backward glance at the hilltop keep and could not help but feel a pang of guilt. She had asked the surgeon¡¯s apprentice if he would not be so kind as to write to her in regard to Sir Hugo¡¯s progress, but had been met with something of a derisive look and was advised to inquire elsewhere. The utmost members of the household not being within, Mouse had searched high and low until she found a maid who knew her letters well enough to compose a simple correspondence. She had thought to bribe the girl with the vial of tincture that had been bestowed upon her at Pothes Mar, but being unable to locate it, had settled upon her a jeweled hairpin instead.


    The rest of the caravan had gone ahead, pressing on through the protest and not stopping until they had arrived at Silkeborg, and so it was that Mouse was forced to go, as all the others, on horseback. But though she lamented this, trading a portion of her melancholy for self-pity, she found that she was coming to gain an unexpected sense of appreciation for the meditative nature of sitting on a horse while one rode across the landscape.


    Mouse had spent much of her time at the knight¡¯s side reliving the attack and ruminating on the events that preceded it, as she did again now. She had examined every piece of evidence available to her, but no matter how many times she did, it all led to the same conclusion, namely, that it had been the work of Lord Ralist.


    The attack, it was clear to see, had been meditated, carefully planned from start to finish, from the flooded high road south of Pothes Mar to the obstructed byway east of Hallovie, and executed with a cold precision that reeked of the both the General¡¯s strategic mind and his arrogance.


    It was vengeance, plain and simple¡ªretribution for the Empress carrying away his son.


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    There had been no violence, no real violence, leading up to the attack, and even in its wake, there were naught but a few scrapes among the laborers and the guard. But the damage inflicted by the act itself was another matter entirely; that was something that would bleed and boil until it ruptured, and whether or not the General realized it, he had assuredly brought war upon himself.


    ¡°Alright, Mouse?¡±


    Mouse turned toward the familiar voice to see Bo approaching on his red roan, managing a smile before returning her gaze to the horizon where the sun was cresting the Adderkops that stood faintly in the distance, the long range of peaks swathed in a haze of morning mist. She was too exhausted and too melancholic for conversation, but the guardsman did not seem to mind. He rode beside her in an easy kind of silence, a silence to which Mouse was slowly growing accustomed, before finally addressing her some minutes later.


    ¡°You see that over there?¡± he asked, extending an arm to indicate a solitary peak rising to the north and east of where they rode now. ¡°That¡¯s Praeden Peak.¡±


    Mouse followed the line of his finger with her eyes.


    ¡°Praeden Peak?¡± she echoed, squinting into the morning light. ¡°I thought it was further south than that.¡± Praeden Peak was one of the tallest peaks in all of Aros, and even if Mouse had never seen it, she had certainly heard of it.


    The guardsman shook his head, kicking his horse to keep pace with Mouse.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking of Praeden Peak, the castle,¡± he said. ¡°But that there is the real Praeden Peak,¡± he gazed out across the fields, ¡°south of the Faunus and west of the marshes.¡±


    Mouse nodded slowly, a murmur of interest escaping her lips, despite herself.


    ¡°So why, then¡ª¡±


    ¡°Praeden Peak, the castle is called Praeden Peak because that¡¯s exactly what you can see when you stand in the highest window of the northwest tower,¡± the guardsman said by way of explanation. ¡°It was built just so by the fellow who commissioned it, and it¡¯s something of a point of pride for them from what I hear.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Mouse, her eyes still fixed on the solitary mountain rising in the distance.


    ¡°Now, Praeden Peak does have its own keep,¡± the guardsman continued, ¡°but you¡¯ll never guess what it¡¯s called.¡±


    Mouse squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of the least logical answer.


    ¡°The Yar,¡± she answered.


    The guardsman threw his head back in laughter.


    ¡°Close,¡± he said, ¡°but no. It¡¯s called the Bluff.¡±


    ¡°The Bluff?¡± Mouse repeated, brushing a gnat from her sleeve. ¡°Why the Bluff?¡±


    The guardsman grinned at her.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask.¡± From his seat in the saddle, he leaned toward Mouse, extending an arm this time to indicate the distant range of mountains that sprung up along the horizon.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said, ¡°that there¡¯s the Adderkops, right? And there,¡± he indicated the solitary peak in the middle distance, ¡°there¡¯s Praeden Peak.¡± He waited for Mouse to give a nod of understanding. ¡°Now, what do you notice about Praeden Peak?¡± he asked. ¡°What¡¯s different about it?¡±


    Mouse studied the horizon and shrugged her shoulders.


    ¡°It¡¯s lonely,¡± she said.


    The guardsman smiled at her.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± he said. ¡°But here¡¯s the thing: you wouldn¡¯t necessarily know that if you were coming from the other way.¡±


    Mouse nodded slowly.


    ¡°I see,¡± she said, somewhat unconvincingly.


    ¡°Say you¡¯re coming through the mountains by way of Ingrid¡¯s Vale,¡± Bo continued eagerly, his grey eyes catching the light as he spoke, ¡°and you¡¯re trying not to draw attention to yourself. Once you cleared the range, you¡¯d likely think you were home-free, right? As far as you can tell, there¡¯s nothing around for miles in any direction and you¡¯ve escaped the notice of the holds that flank the Adderkops.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Mouse agreed.


    ¡°But you¡¯d be wrong,¡± the guardsman, his grey eyes bright with excitement, ¡°because tucked just around that mountain there,¡± he nodded toward Praedon Peak, ¡°is the Bluff, and they¡¯d see you coming a mile away.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Mouse said, understanding finally dawning on her. ¡°It¡¯s a bluff,¡± she said, ¡°a trick. You can¡¯t tell it isn¡¯t part of the Adderkops until you¡¯re already through.¡±


    She looked at the guardsman who returned her smile and felt a kind of warmth spread over her, a sense of gratitude for the distraction he had devised. How the Empress had gone from someone as sour as Johannes to someone as sweet as Bo, she did not understand.


    ¡°Now, Ingrid¡¯s Vale,¡± the guardsman said, ¡°there¡¯s another interesting one. Most people think it¡¯s named for the Han princess, but it actually got its name by accident, a miscommunication, much like how Astice Ford became Asta¡¯s Ford, even though the woman likely never even heard of the Gheny.¡±


    Mouse cocked her head in interest, shielding her eyes from the sun that glinted off the guardsman¡¯s mail.


    ¡°Oh?¡± she said. ¡°What should it have been called then?¡±


    The guardsman gave his horse another firm kick.


    ¡°If memory serves,¡± he said, ¡°used to be it was called Yndis Vale.¡±

 Chapter 39: A Little Faith

    The Empress peered at the guardsman before her through dark, appraising eyes, her chin resting thoughtfully on the back of laced fingers painted pink in the light of the Council chamber.


    ¡°I have already been made aware of all those details which you seem eager to remind me,¡± she said in a tone devoid of any amusement. ¡°What I should like to know is what might have motivated your decision, as head of the detachment, to press through the crowd rather than see to its disbandment.¡±


    Cedric shifted uneasily, the perspiration from his temples sliding down past his ears and disappearing into his gorget.


    The party returning from Silkeborg had only recently arrived and had not been back at Kriftel above an hour before the guardsman had been summoned to the Council chambers. The poor man had not had time to so much as remove his plate before being made to stand trial before the Empress and all her Council, to answer for their disastrous passage along the eastern byway.


    ¡°I understand that two hundred men may not seem a great many, Your Majesty,¡± Cedric said, ¡°but disbanding a protest peaceably is no simple task, and with hundreds more on the way, as was the case, by word of outriders, we were like to be outnumbered before the matter could be dealt with civilly.¡±


    The Empress sat listening, apparently unmoved by his remarks.


    ¡°And do you find that the matter was dealt with civilly?¡± she asked wryly. But to this, the guardsman made no reply. ¡°I am told you were two miles from Hallovie when this encounter occurred,¡± the Empress continued, removing her elbows from the table and taking a sip of wine from her chalice. ¡°Did you not think to send word, to enlist the aid of their city guard?¡±


    Cedric once again shifted his weight, and even from where she sat in the corner of the room, Mouse could see the nervous twitch that pulsed at his temple in the heavy silence that awaited his answer.


    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty,¡± he replied, ¡°the idea did cross my mind. But¡ª¡± He hesitated.


    ¡°Please, Cedric, do go on,¡± drawled the Empress. ¡°You have me practically on the edge of my seat.¡±


    The guardsman pressed his lips together, setting his mouth in a line.


    ¡°I am afraid I cannot account for why I abandoned the notion, Your Majesty,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°I suppose I did not think it would reflect well upon the guard.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± asked the Empress, studying the man through narrowed eyes. ¡°That is rather a paltry excuse. I wonder if it is the same one you offered Sir Hugo.¡±


    Cedric, for all his apparent endeavor to maintain his composure, burned red under the accusation.


    ¡°There is nothing I regret more than what happened to Sir Hugo,¡± he said. ¡°But let there be no mistake, Your Majesty, those men were in no way connected with the protest. They were sent by Ralist with the express purpose of causing injury and more likely death, and there is little we might have done to¡ª"


    ¡°It does not matter who sent them,¡± the Empress said, interrupting the guardsman. ¡°They had motives for what they did, certainly, but it was you, Cedric, who gave them opportunity.¡±


    The room fell so silent now that had a crumb dropped to the floor, it would have been heard by all. The humane thing would have been to interview the man in private, to give him the chance to defend his actions where he was not under the scrutiny of so many unconnected to the event, but of course the Empress did not care about doing what was humane; to her, the more public the humiliation, the better.


    Red as he was, it was impossible to tell whether the guardsman was governed more by anger or guilt, and from where Mouse sat, he was justified in both.


    ¡°Trouble has very little difficulty finding those who run headlong into it,¡± she said. ¡°Now, a wiser man than yourself might have suspected something as soon as he was forced off the main road to the byway and subsequently proceeded with due caution.¡± She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the man before her, whose eyes had fallen to the floor. ¡°How you managed to so misjudge the situation is well beyond my understanding,¡± she said, ¡°and how I managed to misjudge you so thoroughly even more so.¡±


    Mouse could see the lump in Cedric¡¯s throat as he swallowed.


    ¡°I have disappointed you, Your Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°I have disappointed my men, and I have disappointed myself.¡±


    ¡°I am glad that there is at least one thing we can agree upon,¡± the Empress murmured, taking another sip of wine and replacing her chalice upon the table. ¡°Now, before you leave,¡± she said, folding her hands onto her lap, ¡°is there anything further you should wish to tell me?¡±


    Cedric drew up his shoulders and straightened his back.


    ¡°Throughout the whole, the men of the guard, along with those knights recovered from Pothes Mar, conducted themselves with the utmost valor and decency. They showed every restraint in the face of provocation, resulting in only a small number of injuries, and spared the entire village when lesser men would not have. For whatever worth my word may still hold, they demonstrated exemplary behavior, one and all, and should be commended for it.¡±


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    A smile tugged at the Empress¡¯s lips.


    ¡°Consider your remarks noted,¡± she said. ¡°Is there nothing else?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Majesty,¡± Cedric said.


    ¡°Then I, Idalia Aemilia Toth, hereby dismiss you, Cedric LeRoi, not only from this interview, but from my service. Your record will reflect what has transpired in the duration of your service and all actions and decisions taken in your brief time as head of the guard. You will be removed from all eligibility to ever again serve in the royal guard of Aros. However, if you should you wish to seek employment in the army, you may do so as a footman.¡±


    The guardsman stood wordlessly before her.


    ¡°A footman, Your Majesty?¡± Lord Rambert broke in, the first of the Council to speak since the guardsman had appeared before them all. ¡°Are you certain that is fitting for a man of Cedric¡¯s station?¡±


    ¡°He should be glad that he is not under investigation for murder,¡± the Empress said without removing her eyes from the guardsman. ¡°I hear that his men killed one of Sir Hugo¡¯s assailants before the man could be properly detained and questioned.¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± protested Cedric, no longer able or willing to disguise his indignation, ¡°the man died in the course of his arrest as a result of his own violent behavior. Is it not the duty of the guard to¡ª¡±


    ¡°The duty of the guard is whatever I say it is,¡± said the Empress, her voice rising. ¡°Now, I urge you to silence, lest you forget yourself and that grace which I have recently extended to you.¡±


    Mouse bit her lip. The Empress¡¯s judgement was not entirely unfounded; Cedric had been hasty in his decision to push through the protest, and had he demonstrated greater discretion, Ralist¡¯s plot against Sir Hugo may have failed. But the more likely outcome was that the murderous plot would have only been stalled until another opportunity presented itself, and whatever the course, Mouse could not help but feel¡ªand she did not believe herself alone in the sentiment¡ªthat the punishment did not fit the crime.


    ¡°You may notify the Captain yourself of your resignation,¡± said the Empress, dismissing the guardsman with a nod.


    Cedric stood silently before the Council for a moment, his stony face fallen, before bowing and exiting the room. The Empress¡¯s eyes followed the guardsman until the door swung shut behind him.


    ¡°Now then,¡± she said, looking across at her Councilors, ¡°where were we? Something about which one of those Han bastards will be riding down the end of a point-tipped lance, was it?¡±


    Mouse stood on the parapet, where she had come in search of the Captain, staring out at the line of wagons that had formed outside the city gates. It was already more than half a mile long, and the start of the Feast was still some three weeks away.


    Or was it now only two? she wondered as she counted the carts one by one.


    Many were likely carrying provisions of wine and cheese to pad the cellars, grain to be ground and baked into dreg cakes while others were likely carrying wares to be sold at market, wooden spoons and bolts of cloth, blankets and nails and fletching.


    The livestock would of course be taken on a different road, toward the east of the capital, where it would await its slaughter.


    ¡°I am glad to see you returned safely, my lady,¡± a voice said, startling Mouse and causing her to lose her count. She turned to see Ulrich approaching, his honey-colored curls tucked behind his ears as he strode toward her.


    Seeing him now, Mouse realized that her grudge against him had softened little with time, and she quickly resigned from trying to force a smile at him.


    ¡°I know you have many demands on your time, Captain,¡± she said, ¡°and so I shall endeavor to make myself brief.¡± Ulrich¡¯s hazel eyes contemplated her as he waited for her to continue. ¡°I have come, as you may have guessed, to inquire into the well-being of Jasper, the stable boy.¡±


    The Captain bowed his head in understanding.


    ¡°I am glad to report that the boy is safe,¡± the Captain replied, ¡°and as well cared for as can be expected.¡±


    Mouse allowed herself a sigh of relief.


    ¡°And what of his release?¡± she asked, her heart lifting in a tenuous kind of hope. But the Captain held his silence a moment too long, and already before he could answer, Mouse felt the disappointment swelling within her.


    ¡°His pardon will come in time, I trust,¡± the Captain said.


    Mouse shook her head, her disappointment turning to frustration.


    ¡°And until then?¡± she asked, a hint of anger in her voice. ¡°Will he be left to rot in a cell somewhere?¡±


    Ulrich considered her with an unflinching gaze.


    ¡°Jasper is in good keeping,¡± the Captain said, ¡°and out of harm¡¯s way. I am afraid that is all I can tell you.¡±


    Mouse pressed her lips together. She understood that Ulrich had always conducted himself with a certain degree of reserve; it was not simply his position, it was his nature. And while she normally did not mind it so much, in this instance, she found it particularly infuriating. He knew that Jasper was innocent, and he knew how much it meant to Mouse that he was proven such.


    ¡°Is there really nothing more you can tell me?¡± she asked.


    But the Captain only shook his head. Mouse wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, to make him tell her everything, but instead, she looked away, returning her gaze to the line of wagons outside the city gates.


    Perhaps it was not just the Captain she was frustrated with. Perhaps she was frustrated with herself. She thought back to how terrible she had felt when she first learned of Jasper¡¯s arrest, the guilt, the fear of what might happen to him as a result of her foolishness.


    And to her surprise, she thought of Cedric, of how horrible she had felt sitting there watching him be scolded and humiliated in front of the Council. Why had she not said anything? Why had she not come to his defense? If she did not believe him deserving of the punishment handed down so carelessly, why had she done nothing?


    ¡°Well,¡± she said at last to the Captain. ¡°I suppose I should thank you for seeing to his safety.¡±


    She turned to face the man. He looked tired, she realized now. His face seemed somehow worn and drawn, and the lines around his eyes appeared deeper than before.


    ¡°You need not thank me for doing my duty,¡± he replied. ¡°But is it too much to ask that you put a little faith in me?¡±


    Mouse blinked at the Captain, taken aback by the question. His gaze had softened somehow, and Mouse found herself searching his eyes as she had before, convinced that something was hidden there, something that might be spelled out in the flecks of gold that circled his irises.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°No, I suppose it is not.¡±

 Chapter 40: A Twist of the Arm

    Mouse stood on the green of the bailey, shoulders slumped in disappointment. She had risen early in the hope of finding the archery pitch empty, but instead found it already bustling with yeomen who had come to claim their time on the butt before their superiors could take it for themselves.


    Mouse had not touched her bow in weeks and had been looking forward to the practice as much as she had the solitude, but she had neglected to consider the fact that with the tournament now only two weeks away, there was not like to be any time of day during which no one else was occupying the range.


    With a sigh of resignation, she retreated to the armory steps where she spent the next hour or so watching the men take their aim at a row of Arosian suns.


    Archery had grown considerably in popularity in recent years, especially among the nobility, ever since the abolishment of the edict mandating archery practice. Though the idea might seem somewhat contradictory, the fact was that archery was now no longer the common man¡¯s employ. It was a sport that was chosen, rather than forced, and like horsemanship, had become another way for wealthy young men to demonstrate their skill.


    That was the way of peace times. Men spared the rigors of battle had to find other ways to demonstrate their valor, to win the spoils of war without ever stepping foot on the battlefield and garner the favor of fair women throughout the land.


    Even in the lower orders, where weapons were as infrequently provided as they were afforded, there was always some kipper telling tales of the lists and urging his countrymen to ride their farm horses down a broken fence.


    Mouse watched as the men changed to the clout. The sun was now beginning its slow climb above the wall, and it would likely not be long until Mouse found herself wanted.


    She pushed herself to her feet and made her way across the bailey, still damp with morning dew, before turning to ascend the steps of the keep. But no sooner had she rounded the corner of the rail than she found herself face to face with Johannes.


    ¡°How now, little Mouse?¡± the nobleman crooned with a crooked grin. ¡°Back from the north, are you?¡± The purple bruise on his cheek had faded entirely, leaving no trace of the mark that Mouse had given him.


    Mouse ignored him, trying to step around the nobleman, but he persisted in blocking her path.


    ¡°I am surprised you came back at all,¡± he said. ¡°I know how much you love northerners.¡± Johannes stepped quickly in front of Mouse as she attempted again to circumvent him, sneering down at her from the step above. ¡°You know, I bet you never once got out of bed the entire time you were there.¡±


    Mouse clenched her jaw, her hand balling itself into a fist, but still, she made no reply. She had determined herself not to rise to the nobleman¡¯s provocation, if for no other reason than because this time she had nothing with which to strike him.


    Mouse looked into the nobleman¡¯s laughing green eyes and tried to think of something to say, something which might dispel him. But in such a moment, her wit abandoned her, and all she could do was silently seethe with vexation.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± said Johannes, ¡°did you find Sir Conrad as irresistible as Lady Margarethe seems to?¡± He smiled, stepping out of Mouse¡¯s way and allowing her to resume her ascent as he followed close behind. ¡°Of course you must have done so,¡± he said, ¡°else why would he have written asking for your hand?¡±


    Mouse paused a moment, involuntarily coloring at the nobleman¡¯s words. She knew better than to give credence to the sort of things that Johannes said, but it did seem rather an odd thing to contrive.


    Mouse continued up the steps. At no point during her stay at Pothes Mar had she been given an impression that the knight had taken any particular interest in her, and looking back on it now, she was not certain what she had done to encourage his fondness, not that fondness was a requirement for marriage. And though Mouse had no trouble admitting that she liked Sir Conrad, that did not mean that she was prepared to marry him.


    ¡°Got a taste of something he liked, did he?¡± Johannes smirked.


    Mouse stopped at the top of the step and turned to face the nobleman. For a moment, she thought of pushing him, giving him a nice strong shove with both hands in the middle of his chest, one that might send him all the way back down the long stone steps. But instead, she drew a deep breath and turned back to the keep. Just pretend he is not there, she told herself, and sooner or later, he will disappear.


    However, just as she was about to cross the threshold, Mouse felt something grab her by the arm and pull her back.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯re clever?¡± Johannes asked, wrenching Mouse¡¯s arm so that she could not pull away. Mouse¡¯s eyes went wide with surprise. The nobleman¡¯s face, now inches from hers, was twisted with anger, his green eyes no longer laughing. ¡°Do you think I do not see what you are up to?¡±


    Mouse winced as he twisted her arm back painfully.


    ¡°I do not know what you are talking about,¡± she said, meaning every word.


    The nobleman¡¯s breath was hot on her face, rage burning in his eyes, and for a moment, Mouse was afraid. Johannes pulled her closer, the heat of his body oppressive against hers as he leaned in and pressed his face in her hair.


    ¡°The next time my name leaves your lips,¡± he said, the words brushing against Mouse¡¯s ear so that the hair on her arm stood on end, ¡°I assure you, it will not be in accusation.¡±


    Mouse sat in the window, looking down at the archery pitch below. A man in a brightly colored tunic slid an arrow from the quiver, nocking it in place and drawing in one fluid motion. The arrow sailed up high into the sky, forming an arch before plunging back to the earth below.


    Mouse rubbed her arm as she watched, the place just above her wrist where Johannes had grabbed her tender and warm to the touch. The anger that she had initially felt when she had been accosted by the nobleman and the fear that had followed had since faded to a kind of numbness, a vacant resignation that she was as helpless as ever.


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    ¡°Well then, child,¡± said the old man who sat behind the dark acacia desk, his fingers laced across his stomach, ¡°have you come to once again regale me with tales of your travels?¡±


    Mouse watched the man in the bright yellow tunic below slide another arrow from the quiver.


    ¡°What should you like to hear first,¡± she muttered, more to the window than to the old man, ¡°how the General refused me, how Lady Margarethe kept in hiding, how the whole of Pothes Mar was probably laughing at me the entire time I was there?¡±


    The melancholy that Mouse had wished to outrun had been waiting for her. She had hoped that perhaps she would return to the capital and find that things had somehow changed, that she had changed. But of course, this had not been the case.


    She picked at a loose thread sticking out of her sleeve, head hanging into her lap so that she would not have to meet the old man¡¯s eyes as she spoke.


    ¡°I thought that perhaps I had been given an opportunity to prove myself,¡± she said, ¡°to prove to myself that¡ª¡± She paused, pulling the thread loose and holding it out in front of her for a moment. ¡°¡ªthat perhaps that you were right.¡± She let the thread slip from between her fingers and float to the ground, drifting through the sunlight that illuminated flecks of dust as they danced in the air. ¡°But it¡¯s not true, is it?¡±


    She looked up at the old man who peered across the room at her from beneath bushy white brows.


    ¡°What¡¯s not true?¡± he asked.


    Mouse thought a moment.


    ¡°Any of it,¡± she said. ¡°The necklace, the mallows, the man from Silver Lake. None of it means anything, does it?¡±


    She held the old man¡¯s gaze, searching his pale grey eyes for something, something that might tell her whether she was right or wrong. She had come to him not for answers outright, but for confirmation or contradiction of what she believed to be true.


    ¡°You told me once,¡± she began with a sigh, ¡°¡ªyou told me that my parents wanted more for me.¡± She paused and shook her head. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid that this is who I am,¡± she said, ¡°and this is all I will ever be.¡±


    Mouse turned back to the window. She had thought that everything she had gone through the past few months had been a trial, something that would serve to strengthen her. But she could see now that that was not the case. She was weak and servile, and all it had taken was one brief encounter with Johannes, one twist of her arm, one whispered threat, and she had been frightened right back into her little corner.


    It did not matter what sort of stories Ludger tried to tell her; daughters of emperors were not meek and cowardly. They did not keep quiet when they should speak up, they did not suffer those around them to be mistreated, they did not cower as their enemies berated and abused them.


    Johannes was the embodiment of everything Mouse hated most¡ªthe cruelty of those she was bound to serve, the lies that abounded everywhere she turned, and worst of all, her own helplessness in the face of it all. She touched her arm where he had grabbed her and twisted, her eyes squeezed shut. Her stomach turned at the memory, not just for the pain of him wrenching her arm back or the feel of his breath on her skin, but because it was in that moment that Mouse realized she hated herself more than even the nobleman.


    I am a mouse, and I will never be anything more, she thought to herself, and to pretend otherwise is hopeless.


    ¡°But that¡¯s alright,¡± Mouse said now, opening her eyes and turning back to the old man. ¡°Because if none of it is true, maybe that means that none of it is my fault.¡±


    The old man¡¯s brow twitched in amusement.


    ¡°So you are hoping that in shunning responsibility, you will also absolve yourself of guilt,¡± he said.


    Mouse considered this a moment.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she said, her gaze unfaltering as she held the old man¡¯s eyes.


    She thought of Jasper locked in the tower even as it burned, the smell of smoke pungent and choking. She thought of his mother and how terribly frightened she must have been for the only son who had lived to be old enough to walk. And she thought of Sir Hugo lying in the road, his eyes wide with surprise as he lay there bleeding to death.


    Mouse had not realized until now that she blamed herself for what had happened on the road east of Hallovie. But it had been she who had begged the knight to return with them, and if not for her, the man might still be in Pothes Mar, under the General¡¯s command but unharmed.


    ¡°Or perhaps,¡± Mouse said, ¡°I am simply tired of all this foolishness, all this pretending.¡±


    The old man weighed Mouse¡¯s words for a moment, seeming to consider the sincerity of them, before unlacing his fingers and sitting forward in his chair.


    ¡°Very well, then,¡± he said. ¡°Let us rid of all this foolishness, as you say.¡± And with that, he resumed his task of leafing through the stack of parchments before him, glancing over each one back and front before separating them into piles.


    Mouse sat still in the window. She did not know what she had expected of the old man, but she did not think it was this.


    ¡°Goodbye, Maudeleine,¡± Ludger said without looking up from his papers. ¡°I wish you all the luck in your future endeavors to remain inconsequential.¡±


    Slowly, carefully, Mouse pushed herself down from the ledge of the window. She watched the old man, wondering if he would not try and stop her, before crossing to the door, pausing in front of his desk only a moment.


    ¡°Lest I forget,¡± Ludger¡¯s voice stopped her just as she placed a hand on the doorknob. ¡°This came for you, by way of Marius.¡±


    Mouse turned to see the old man holding out a folded sheet of parchment in his knob-knuckled fingers.


    Why Lord Marius should have brought her a letter, she was certain she did not know, but she took the parchment nonetheless, murmuring her thanks, and left the room, this time for good.


    Mouse walked down the long hallway toward her chambers feeling slightly abused and more than a little confused. She had not expected the old man to release her so readily. In truth, she did not know what she had expected, but she would be lying to herself if she said that she had not been wounded by his hasty dismissal.


    The parchment she had been handed had been folded up and tucked into her sleeve, for worry that once opened, Mouse might once again find a perplexing set of words, a riddle, the answer to which would come too late.


    She had nearly made it to her rooms, when she noticed a familiar figure moving toward her. It was Agatha. As she drew nearer, Mouse could see that the girl¡¯s face was pale and drawn, as though she had not slept in days.


    ¡°Agatha,¡± Mouse said, knitting her brows together in concern. ¡°Are you not well? What has happened?¡±


    The girl looked at her through round, blue eyes damp with unshed tears.


    ¡°I spoke with the Empress,¡± she said, her voice quiet and trembling, ¡°about Sir Frederick.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I did just as you said I should, but¡ª¡±


    The girl broke off as tears began to spill down her cheeks.


    ¡°Oh, Agatha,¡± said Mouse, placing a hand gently on the girl¡¯s arm. ¡°I am so sorry. I know how very fond of Sir Frederick you were.¡±


    Agatha¡¯s chin quivered but she did not attempt to speak.


    ¡°Let me speak to the Empress on your behalf,¡± Mouse said, her heart aching for the poor girl who stood silently weeping before her. But Agatha shook her head.


    ¡°No, I thank you,¡± she said in a tremulous voice. ¡°I do not think it would help. The Empress does not like you much, you know.¡±


    Mouse smiled weakly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°I suppose you are right. But if there is anything that I can do¡ª¡±


    ¡°You have done quite enough, I thank you,¡± said Agatha, lifting her chin despite her tears.


    Mouse recoiled at the girl¡¯s tone. She had not expected that Agatha might blame her, but she wondered whether the girl did not regret running away with Sir Frederick when she had had the chance.


    ¡°I know it all seems hopeless right now,¡± said Mouse, reaching for the girl¡¯s delicate hands even as she pulled away, ¡°but I assure you that it is not.¡±


    Mouse looked into Agatha¡¯s eyes, and felt her heart begin to throb with guilt, the pain on the girl¡¯s face a knife driving deeper and deeper into the place she had tried so hard to protect.


    Why was it, Mouse wondered, that she had thought she somehow knew better than Agatha? Why had she made it her place to tell the girl not to run away?


    She reached again for Agatha¡¯s hands, and this time, she did not pull away. The girl¡¯s fingers were thin and cold, Mouse reflected as she squeezed them gently.


    ¡°It is never hopeless,¡± she said. Agatha forced a smile to her lips and nodded.


    But even Mouse knew that it was a lie.

 Chapter 41: Even in Darkness

    Mouse sunk into the chair across from her table, relieved at last to find herself within the sanctuary of her own chambers.


    The castle had become a bed of activity; lords and knights pouring in from all over the country, and with them they brought noise and mayhem. It was too many people all at once trying to fit themselves in. Squires and servants and footmen and grooms all had to be accounted for, and the line of wagons outside the city gates was now at least a mile long.


    In the middle of it all, Mouse had found herself overwhelmed, both by the sudden change in the habitat to which she was accustomed and by the meetings she had had that day.


    She looked into the glass at the weary face that peered back at her, one by one, pulling the pins from her hair and allowing the long, dark strands to tumble down to her shoulders.


    The face staring back at her from the other side of the glass was a girl tired and broken, and more than that, she was lonely.


    Mouse had never known her parents, but she had always felt the nature of her circumstance unremarkable; she was a child of the court, and as such, had been raised, like the majority of her peers, by nurses, by maids, by tutors. And though she seldom bothered to dwell on this fact, she had never felt more like an orphan than when she had sat in Ludger¡¯s rooms feeling frightened and lost and hopeless and humiliated, seeking some sort of reassurance, some reminder of who she was and what she might be capable of, and receiving nothing but a cruel dismissal.


    She lowered her gaze, unable to face her own despondency. Had she always been this fragile, she wondered? Had there never been a time when she had been brave?


    She thought of the golden chain of mallows that Ludger had given her. She was not afraid of the truth. She was not afraid of whatever it might mean to know that she was the Empress¡¯s sister. No, what frightened her was the idea that she might have the makings of greatness within her butting up against the knowledge that she would never be great.


    Her gaze traveled across the table and fell on a small wooden box. It was the one she had been given by the maid at Pothes Mar. She had been looking for it these past days but had been unable to find it.


    She reached over and took it up, opening it to admire the little glass vial within. The liquid was dark and shimmering in the low light, mesmerizing and beautiful. Carefully, Mouse wedged out the stopper, bringing the vial to her nose and inhaling the musky scent before dabbing it onto her fingertip and rubbing it onto her cheeks.


    She watched her reflection in the glass, to see if it had any effect, but the only change Mouse noticed was that brought on by the flickering light of candle and flame. A fire blazed in the hearth, lit to drive out the damp in the air brought on by a late summer rain, and the image before her now danced in the firelight, bending and distorting with every lick of the flames.


    Who are you? Mouse asked the girl in the glass. Who are you, and what do you want?


    But the girl could give her no answer.


    Mouse closed her eyes and listened to the crackle of the flames for a few moments longer before reluctantly rising crossing to the basin. She splashed her face, the water cool and refreshing on her cheeks, before loosening the sleeves of her tunic and beginning to wiggle her way free.


    Mouse was glad to be without a maid tonight, even if it meant undressing herself, for she had no wish to converse. In fact, she had no wish to think or do anything apart from fall into her feathers and be swallowed up by the sweet embrace of sleep.


    She took her tunic by the hem and pulled it over her head, but as just she did so, she noticed something fall to the ground. It was a square of parchment, she saw as she lay her clothes aside to retrieve the dropped object, the letter that Ludger had given her which she had folded up and tucked into her sleeve.


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    Mouse crossed to the bed with the letter in hand, the fact that she had managed to forget about it a testament to her exhaustion. But as she began now to unfold it, her heart pounded with curiosity, quickening until she had unfolded it entirely. With trembling hands, she spread it out onto her lap, and though she did not recognize the hand, she knew the sender at once.


    Warm tears welled in Mouse¡¯s eyes as they danced across the page. She pressed a hand to her lips, scarce able to believe the words she was reading, even as they stood there before her.


    ¡°Jewel of Aros,¡± the letter began, ¡°bender of bows, thief of hearts.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s face broke into a smile.


    ¡°As I write this letter, I am visited by a funny little black bird, the same one who greets me every morning. I think you would call her Cherith, but I have another name for her, for she begins to appear familiar to me¡­


    ¡°Can it be that you have missed your Foilunder so much that you have borrowed wings from some old heks?¡±


    A laugh escaped Mouse¡¯s lips, the tears threatening to blur her vision. It was as though she could hear the words being spoken in the Foilunder¡¯s thick northern accent.


    ¡°Our host here at Puente Qalina is an interesting person,¡± the Foilunder went on, ¡°different from the other southerners I have met, and full of conviction. But this is a good quality, I think, for a man to have. For if a man can follow his heart, he will never be lost.¡±


    Mouse brushed the tears away from her eyes, her hands trembling as she continued to read.


    ¡°I do not yet know when I will return home to Foilund. Perhaps today, or perhaps not for many days to come. I am a man who follows orders, and the one who gives them keeps his lips closed for now. I wonder if you will be waiting there for me when I arrive. Do you know, I often see you in dream, standing there in the middle of Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge. I watch you from the window, waiting for you to come inside. But why do you hesitate?¡±


    Mouse lifted a hand to wipe again at the tears in her eyes, a strange, bittersweet sensation tugging at her heart. He writes that he dreams of me standing on Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge, she thought to herself as she read the words back. Can it really be so, that we share the same dream?


    The letter went on a few lines more, before being signed, ¡°Torben, writer of letters and keeper of solemn promises.¡±


    Mouse wept freely now, tears of joy racing down her cheeks. There was nothing in that moment that could possibly brought her any greater happiness than if the Foilunder himself had been there before her. She pressed the parchment to her chest, holding it against her heart, before opening it and reading it over again.


    She wanted to sing, to dance, to cry out. The Foilunder had not forgotten her, much as she had feared he would; he had remembered her, and not only that, he had written to her, sweet, sweet words scrawled upon the page to be cherished every day of her life hereafter.


    Mouse climbed into her feathers and pulled the blankets up to her chin as she continued to pore over the letter. Over and over again she read the it, hanging on every word. Each time she found something else to seize upon, something new to wonder over.


    As she lay in bed, letter in hand, her eyes at lady began to grow heavy, but still, refused to extinguish the candle and draw the bed curtains closed. For what would happen if she woke in the night, desirous of reading the letter again, and lacked the light by which to do so?


    This single piece of parchment with lines creased into it from where it had been folded was now the most precious thing in Mouse¡¯s possession, dearer to her still than even the little wooden archer the Foilunder had carved for her. Every word was a prayer answered, a wish granted, a promise that even in darkness, things were not so hopeless as they seemed.


    All the reassurance she had sought elsewhere had been found in the Foilunder¡¯s words. You are the jewel of Aros, Mouse thought to herself, and you are not alone. It was more than she had even thought to hope for.


    That night, Mouse went to bed with a smile upon her lips and a heart full to brimming. The sadness and hopelessness, the pain and humiliation, it had all faded away, erased by the knowledge that she was loved. And when at last she drifted off to sleep, the letter still clutched tightly in her fingers, she dreamed of Kingfishers¡¯ Bridge and the mighty Manau that flowed beneath it, of the great stone house that stood at the far end, the one with the half-moon painted on the door. She dreamed of a strange song drifting out on the breeze as smoke rose from the chimney. And this time, as she turned to face the house that stood waiting for her at the end of the bridge, she did not hesitate.

 Chapter 42: In the Name of Love

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Mouse began, straightening her back and drawing herself up, ¡°there is an important matter on which I should like to speak with you. It regards Lady Agatha and her coming nuptials, specifically, the offer made to her by Sir Frederick of the lower Faunus. As you may be aware, the young man¡¯s father, Lord Agneu is the owner of a considerable quarry in the area and the steward of several others. Upon his passing, all his lands and holdings will pass to his son. I understand that some arrangement has been made with Lord Hildimar, but the crown stands to benefit a great deal from joining with the Agneus, and I dare say that the boy and his father will be more than glad to compensate the crown for any loss it suffers in breaking contract with Hildimar, and furthermore, to provide such a living as might be taxed at a valuation exceeding that which might¡ª¡± She paused, trying to remember what it was she had meant to say. ¡°¡ªexceeding that which might¡ª¡± She muttered a curse under her breath.


    ¡°Very good, My Lady,¡± said the maid, drawing back the bed hangings and tying them in place. ¡°I¡¯m very convinced.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lette,¡± said Mouse, ¡°but I was not quite finished.¡± She paced in the front of the window, her hands worrying themselves as she chewed her lip in thought.


    ¡°And furthermore,¡± she continued, trying to arrange her thoughts into words, ¡°to provide such a living as might be taxed at a valuation exceeding that which might have previously been agreed upon.¡± She knew that was not what she had planned to say, but it would have to do.


    ¡°And any dowry that might be paid on the girl¡¯s behalf by her family,¡± she continued, ¡°might instead be forfeit to the crown, as a show of gratitude for Her Majesty¡¯s¡ª¡± She paused.


    ¡°Grace?¡± suggested Lette as she pushed past Mouse to empty the basin out the window. ¡°Goodness?¡±


    Mouse shook her head.


    ¡°No matter,¡± she said. ¡°My argument cannot stand upon a single word. Nevertheless, I¡¯m certain it will come to me in the moment.¡±


    ¡°Very good, My Lady,¡± said Lette, returning the basin from whence it came.


    Though it was done in the name of love, Mouse knew that her appeal to the Empress must be based in practicality, and it was in the recitation of her beseechment that she had found herself confronted with an unfortunate fact of her own circumstance, namely that when it came to her own dowry, she had no family to pay it. This meant that it would fall to the crown to determine what, if anything, should be given in favor of her union, and she was therefore like to have even less say in her own marriage than Agatha.


    She had thereafter found herself preoccupied with the remembered claim that Sir Conrad had written asking for her hand, and though she had not formed any illusion of control over the thing, she was still eager to learn the truth of it. However, that would have to wait. For now, her object was singular: to convince the Empress that Sir Frederick the superior match to Hildimar.


    Mouse crossed the room to look into the glass, straightening her posture and lowering her shoulders, as Ludger had reminded her a thousand times.


    You are the jewel of Aros, she told herself, not a mouse. You must do this for Agatha, and you must do this for yourself, in the name of love.


    She stood in front her table, the little wooden box containing the glass vial of tincture catching her attention, and for a moment, she considered whether she might dab another drop upon her cheeks and savor the warmth that spread over her. But the vial contained precious little of the tincture, and moreover, she wanted no distraction from her task.


    Mouse smoothed out her skirts and drew a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay before her.


    ¡°Wish me luck,¡± she said, turning to Lette before she walked out.


    ¡°All of Asta¡¯s and then some,¡± the maid replied, stirring the ashes in the hearth.


    Mouse lingered a moment longer by the door, hoping that the maid might come and give her a proper blessing of luck, a kiss on each cheek, before determining that the woman has no intention of doing so and slipping out into the hallway.


    Mouse walked slowly down the hallway, muttering under her breath the speech which she planned to make to the Empress. Opportunity, she knew, was equally important to matter, and she must therefore be patient, waiting for the correct moment to prevent itself without waiting so long that it passes by.


    Just as Mouse neared the Empress¡¯s chambers, she was stopped by the sight of the door cracking open and a backlit figure emerging from within. There was something about the way the person moved that suggested to Mouse that they were hoping to escape notice, and she found her heartbeat quickening as she stood frozen in indecision, trying to decide whether to remain or flee, to try and make out identity of the person or leave the way she had come before she herself was discovered.


    However, before she could decide in favor of either, the man had already turned and caught sight of her.


    ¡°Mouse,¡± he said in surprise, his ears turning a bright shade of pink as he stammered his excuses.


    It had been some months now since the guardsman had fallen into the Empress¡¯s favor, and though Mouse had initially been surprised that Bo of all people should have been the one to catch the woman¡¯s eye, the more time she spent with him, the better she began to understand the charms that might have attracted the Empress to him.


    Though he was not the sort of man Mouse herself might find handsome, he was young and tall and had a head of thick dark curls, and there was no denying the appeal of such manifest attractions. But more than that, Mouse knew him to be clever and capable, confident without being arrogant, easy without being simple, and steady without being dull.


    ¡°You do not have to make excuses to me,¡± she said, pretending against the awkwardness she presently felt. ¡°I understand perfectly well how these sort of things work. In fact, as I recall, it was I who put you wise to the Empress¡¯s interest in the first place.¡±


    A deepening blush spread from the guardsman¡¯s ears across his cheeks.


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    ¡°It¡¯s just,¡± he said, ¡°well, I wouldn¡¯t want anyone thinking I don¡¯t take my job seriously, would I?¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± said Mouse with a smile that she hoped would put the guardsman at ease. ¡°Everyone knows you¡¯ve earned your post. You were with the guard long before you caught the Empress¡¯s eye.¡±


    Bo nodded, though he could not conceal his discomfiture.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± he said.


    Though Mouse thought it somehow worse to see the guardsman come out of the Empress¡¯s than Johannes, she could not help but be thoroughly charmed by his apparent embarrassment.


    ¡°As luck has it,¡± she said, ¡°I¡¯m glad to have found you. There¡¯s a favor I¡¯ve been meaning to ask.¡±


    ¡°Go on then,¡± Bo said, his complexion beginning to return to a somewhat more usual color.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Mouse, straightening herself so as to appear taller, ¡°I would like to learn the sword, and I was hoping that you might teach me.¡±


    Bo raised his eyebrows in surprise.


    ¡°You want to learn the sword?¡± he echoed, his mouth easing into a smile and a glimmer coming to light in his grey eyes. ¡°What for?¡±


    Mouse shrugged her shoulders. She had been entertaining the notion for some time; in fact, if she thought about it, she had wanted to learn the sword for as long as she could remember. Perhaps it had sprung from a sense of powerlessness, a desire for control, some means of not only defending herself but asserting herself. However, she had not the autonomy to pursue it when she was younger, nor the confidence as she grew older. But recent events had renewed her desire to learn, and fortified by the Foilunder¡¯s letter, which had excited every feeling of strength and courage within her, she could see no better time to pursue the thing and certainly knew no better person to ask.


    ¡°I suppose I should like to improve myself,¡± she said in favor of a lengthy explanation. ¡°And seeing as you¡¯re the best swordsman I know¡­¡± she let silence finish the rest.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that,¡± Bo said with a grin that betrayed his delight.


    Mouse nodded.


    ¡°I most certainly do,¡± she said, ¡°even if you were walloped by that Foilunder in a game of knights.¡±


    The guardsman winced.


    ¡°Oi!¡± he cried. ¡°Save the low blows for the training ring.¡±


    Mouse laughed.


    ¡°I am only teasing,¡± she said with a smile, ¡° you know that. But truly, does that mean you¡¯ll teach me?¡±


    Bo looked at her, his grey eyes tracing her from head to foot as if to assess her sincerity.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll teach you,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯ve got one rule¡ª¡± He paused. ¡°No crying.¡±


    Mouse reached out and smacked the guardsman across the arm.


    ¡°Oi,¡± he said, ¡°how many times do I have to tell you that¡¯s my bad arm!¡± And with that, he trotted down the hallway with a grin on his face.


    ¡°Oh, thank the gods,¡± the Empress said the moment she saw Mouse enter the room. ¡°I¡¯m starving practically to death. Send for something, would you?¡± She reached over the edge of the bed, retrieving her chemise from the floor and pulling it over her head. ¡°Oh, and tell the maids they can come back in.¡±


    Mouse bowed and dutifully obeyed, feeling even more awkward now than she had in the hallway. It was strange to think that the woman she loathed so thoroughly and the man she cherished so dearly were in any way attached. But luckily, she did not have to suffer the sentiment long, for within a few moments, the maids had returned, bringing with them fresh water for the basins, and were followed not long after by a tray of boiled eggs, bacon, and fruit with honey sent up from the kitchens.


    The rest of the ladies soon enough made their appearance, though among them, Agatha was conspicuously absent, and sat, as usual, on their little cushioned stools in the corner, stretchers and needles in hand as though today might be the day they actually produced something. Meanwhile, the seneschal who had carried in the letters planted himself where he might make well-timed observances to the Empress as she read.


    The Empress now sat propped up on her pillows, alternating using her hands to take up another piece of bacon or open a sealed parchment.


    ¡°The Heir of Vejle writes again,¡± she remarked between mouthfuls of her breakfast, wiping her grease-stained fingers on the bed covers.


    ¡°That is the virtue of the ill-born, Your Majesty,¡± said the seneschal, ¡°persistence.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± the Empress murmured, turning the parchment in her hand over. ¡°He says he now commands some eight thousand men. That¡¯s twice as many as the last time he wrote.¡± She cast the letter aside. ¡°He¡¯s been busy.¡±


    ¡°A wonder he has time to write,¡± the seneschal quipped, proffering another letter, which the Emprss waved away in favor of a boiled egg.


    Perhaps now is the moment, thought Mouse to herself, now, while she is rested and fed and before she becomes elsewise distracted.


    She swallowed the lump in her throat and prepared herself to speak.


    You are the jewel of Aros, she reminded herself, not a mouse. You must do this for Agatha, and you must do this for yourself, in the name of love.


    She drew a deep breath.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she said, ¡°there is an important matter on which I should like to speak with you.¡±


    But before she could utter another word, there was a sound at the door, and the Captain of the guard strode into the room, standing at the foot of the Empress¡¯s bed and bowing.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°I assume you will not allow me to address you privately.¡±


    ¡°You assume correctly,¡± said the Empress, hardly bothering to look up from her breakfast tray.


    ¡°Then I will be brief,¡± Ulrich said. ¡°Osgar Lorenz had been arrested.¡±


    ¡°I beg your pardon, who?¡± asked the Empress.


    ¡°Osgar Lorenz,¡± replied Ulrich, ¡°the former Captain of the royal guard. He has been charged with conspiracy against the crown of Aros, known endangerment of a member of the royal family, and willful neglect of sworn duty to the crown. He was taken in last night on testimony of such crimes and has renewed his avowal this morning.¡±


    The Empress drew herself up on her pillows. The room had fallen silent, and every eye was turned upon the Captain.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± the Empress asked.


    Ulrich shifted somewhat uneasily.


    ¡°The man has taken responsibility for what happened at Silver Lake,¡± he said. ¡°He claims that he had no intent of doing harm, and that he had no knowledge that any harm had in fact been done until a much later time.¡±


    ¡°Explain,¡± the Empress said, the solemnity of her tone matching her grave expression.


    Ulrich hesitated.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said, ¡°I do not think that this is the time or the place to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Explain,¡± demanded the Empress, her voice rising in anger. ¡°That is an order, Captain.¡±


    Ulrich¡¯s shoulders rose and fell with a measured breath.


    ¡°Osgar claims that on the morning of our departure from the Inn, that is, the morning that he was relieved from your service, he rode ahead of the rest of the party, reaching Silver Lake before we had crossed the Vellows. As he neared the village, he came upon an archer in the woods and bade the man be wary of strangers passing through. He says that no ill intent was meant by his remark, that it was little more than a greeting. He claims that it was not until much later that he realized there might be any connection between what he had said to the man and what he later learned had come to pass.¡±


    The Empress looked at the Captain, her eyes dark and unreadable.


    ¡°Do you believe this testimony?¡± she asked.


    Ulrich was quiet, and Mouse could tell he had no wish to answer. She could see the pulse of the vein in his temple, the clench of his jaw, the telltale signs of the conflict he suffered each time he was compelled by duty to do that which contradicted with what he knew to be right.


    ¡°I asked you a question, Captain,¡± said the Empress. ¡°Do you believe the man¡¯s testimony?¡±


    ¡°I have no reason to doubt it, Your Majesty,¡± Ulrich said at last.


    Mouse¡¯s heart wanted to be glad, to rejoice in the notion that if Osgar were to take the blame for what had happened at Silver Lake, Jasper might at last be freed. But she had seen something in the Captain¡¯s face, something which she had not seen before, an almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, and as her gaze fell to the hand that rested by his belt, the slight, involuntary movement of his fingers.


    The Captain¡¯s eyes flashed to Mouse for only the briefest of moments, but it was enough to tell her that something was wrong. Either he was afraid, Mouse thought to herself, something she did not think very likely, or he was lying.