Yet even as he and Sashie moved reluctantly to the cathedral doors to make their departure, a white-haired deacon hurried up to them.

"Pardon me, Mr. Garritt," the deacon had said, "but is it true what I have heard, that you are a clerk by vocation?"

Eldyn was unsure what to make of these words, but he nodded and explained that he had indeed been recently employed as a clerk.

"It seems providence provides for us in our very hour of need!" the old deacon had exclaimed, casting his gaze heavenward.

He went on to explain that the priest who had kept the ledger over at Graychurch had recently pa.s.sed from this life. Soon after, it was discovered that the old fellow, while a devout soul, had not been blessed with much ability when it came to ciphering, and the books were in great disarray.

It was a surprise to Eldyn that the Church had need of clerks at all. However, the deacon said that, while their attention was ever directed toward the next world, they yet dwelled in this this one, and here there was much to be accounted for. Thus a clerk was required at once at Graychurch to put the ledger back in order, and if Eldyn was interested, he was to leave the cathedral, go over to Graychurch across the way, and present himself to the rector there. one, and here there was much to be accounted for. Thus a clerk was required at once at Graychurch to put the ledger back in order, and if Eldyn was interested, he was to leave the cathedral, go over to Graychurch across the way, and present himself to the rector there.

Eldyn could only accept such an extraordinary and timely offer, though he wondered why the deacon would offer him such an important position when the Church knew nothing about his abilities or character. Even as he thought this, movement above had caught his eye. Up in the clerestory of the cathedral, he saw the tall silhouette of a priest before a stained-gla.s.s window, his hooded head bowed as if in prayer.

At this sight a feeling welled up in Eldyn-one as brilliant as the light from the window. Perhaps it was simply an act of faith, he thought. Nor would he betray that faith. That very afternoon he went to Graychurch to begin clerking. Thus Eldyn came to work for the Church of Altania.

And the ghost of Vandimeer Garritt be d.a.m.ned.

AS THE LAMPLIGHTERS began their work, Eldyn walked with Sashie the short distance to the place where they had dwelled these last few months: a slate-roofed building that was nearly as ancient as Graychurch.

In years past, the building had housed a monastery, but just as fewer people attended church these days, so, too, fewer people were willing to devote their lives to it. Thus the monastery had been converted some time ago into apartments to accommodate visiting clergy, as well as to house some of the various laymen who served the Church. visiting clergy, as well as to house some of the various laymen who served the Church.

Even as the Church of Altania's congregations had shrunk over the centuries, its holdings had grown at an ever-increasing rate, thus proving that, next to the power of G.o.d, there was no power in creation so miraculous as the mathematics of compound interest. As a result, the Church owned a great deal of capital, and many people were required for the management of its lands and buildings.

Eldyn's part in this was small, being nothing more than the keeping of the daily ledger at Graychurch-which, while an esteemed inst.i.tution, was but a fraction as busy (or rich) as nearby St. Galmuth's. He tallied income and expenses as he might for any business, and if the income came in donations and t.i.thes, and the expenses were for candles and incense and bottles of sacramental wine, the numbers cared little. They added and subtracted just the same for holy purposes as for profane.

An apartment had been granted to him as part of his wage. It was not large, consisting of no more than a sitting room attached to one chamber of goodly proportions (which was Sashie's) and one rather smallish (which was his). The bare stone walls and wooden furniture were austere, but a lush Murghese rug covered the floor, and there was a window looking out over the courtyard in which a plum tree always seemed to be blooming.

Eldyn sat at the table in the main room and opened a leather satchel full of papers. Recently, he had asked if he might be allowed to bring some of his work home with him, as it was just as easy for him to tally figures here as in the office of the rector. This request had been granted, and so from time to time Eldyn was able to do his ciphering in the apartment, which meant Sashie did not have to be alone so much. He cut a pen, took out a bundle of receipts, and in neat rows of figures recorded transactions for altar cloths, silver goblets, and a stonemason's labors on a cracked wall.

As he worked, Sashie busied herself setting out their dinner. The foodstuffs had been brought in by a woman he had hired. Despite the many improvements in her behavior, Sashie still had neither interest nor ability with regard to cooking. It seemed some miracles were beyond even G.o.d's power. neither interest nor ability with regard to cooking. It seemed some miracles were beyond even G.o.d's power.

Eldyn did not mind; they could easily afford the expense. He made suitably pleased and amazed remarks as she set a plate of cold roast pigeon and candied apricots before him. She smiled as she sat with her own plate, and he set his papers aside as they took their meal together.

Sashie looked pretty in the glow of the oil lamp; he was glad the strain and worry of these last months had not pinched her face or made her wan. However, he saw she wore the same plain gray dress she had worn yesterday. Did she have nothing nicer to wear? He could not remember the last time he had bought her anything new.

"I do not think I'll be so very busy on Brightday," he said. "And if The Fox The Fox can be believed, the lumenal is to be longer than this one. I propose we go to Gauldren's Heights, to some fine Uphill shop, and buy you a new dress." can be believed, the lumenal is to be longer than this one. I propose we go to Gauldren's Heights, to some fine Uphill shop, and buy you a new dress."

She set down her fork as her blue eyes went wide. "Oh, but we mustn't!"

He smiled at her apparent concern. "You needn't worry, Sashie. We can more than afford it now. You can have any dress you like, and a hat to go with it as well, if you so wish."

She shook her head. "But we can't buy anything, not on Brightday. It's horridly wicked to touch a coin from dawn until moonrise."

He could not help a frown. "Where did you hear such a thing?"

"One of the priests, Father Prestus, told me, and I am very grateful he did. One is supposed to spend the whole lumenal in prayer and reflection, and to engage in neither work nor merriment. To think, all this time I've never known. How awful I have been! I've never thought a thing about buying this or that on a Brightday. The angels must consider me the most wretched creature in the world!"

His frown ceased, and now his urge was to laugh. He was certain, if the hosts of Eternum wished to find a paragon of wickedness in the world, they would have many examples to choose from besides Sashie. However, her distress was obvious, and he gave her a solemn look. besides Sashie. However, her distress was obvious, and he gave her a solemn look.

"I am sure the angels will not judge you ill for something you did not know. It wouldn't be fair of them, would it? And angels are very just. But are you certain about not being able to buy things on Brightday?"

"Oh, yes!" she said with great enthusiasm now. "The verger showed me the place in the Testament where it's written. It is a transgression against the Faith to buy or sell anything on Brightday."

If that was the case, then Eldyn was certain the city was rife with transgressors, and come the full moon every market and shop in the city would be crowded with people happily stopping to make a purchase or two on their way to the Abyss. He did not speak these things. The Church, the saints, the Testament were all new to his sister, and their novelty no doubt imbued them with a power and mystery.

"Well, we'll go shopping another day, then," he said, and this seemed to appease her, for she smiled at him.

"If you wish it, sweet brother. Though really, I can't think of a thing to get. I already have everything I could possibly need."

She rose, kissed his cheek, and cleared away their plates.

Eldyn could only smile in return, though a bit perplexedly. How often in the past had she derided him for the poor state of her wardrobe! He returned to his ciphering as she wiped the dishes and put them in the cupboard. After a few minutes he lowered his pen again and looked up at his sister. She hummed a song as she worked, and despite her plain dress she looked quite lovely, her dark hair shining in the lamplight.

He still had every hope of seeing her well-situated in life, and he could only think that her new manner would make that task easier. What man would not be pleased to take a young wife who was both lovely and sweet?

Of course, his ideas of a proper suitor were more humble than he had once entertained. What portion he would be able to offer in exchange for her hand would provide little temptation for a gentleman who had an appet.i.te for fine things. All the same, it was not inconceivable that a lawyer or well-to-do tradesman would consider her beauty and charm to be adequate recompense for a small dowry. gentleman who had an appet.i.te for fine things. All the same, it was not inconceivable that a lawyer or well-to-do tradesman would consider her beauty and charm to be adequate recompense for a small dowry.

Still, even a modest dowry would take him some time to save on his wages as a clerk. He took up a bit of scratch paper and did some quick ciphering. He estimated their expenses, subtracted the amount from his monthly earnings, and then divided the remainder into a sum he deemed was the barest minimum he could offer as a dowry.

A feeling of gloom came over him. By his calculations, it would take him two years to ama.s.s the required portion. Two years! It seemed a long time off. Yet there was nothing else he could do. Besides, as far off as it seemed, Sashie would still be just twenty then-more than young enough to tempt any man except one who favored only the most tender of brides. And in the interim, he could perhaps hope for some small increases in his wages if the rector of Graychurch continued to be pleased with his work.

So there-all that lay between now and Sashie being well-situated was some time and toil, neither of which were things to be dreaded. Much work lay ahead, but despite that he could not help feeling pleased to know that his sister's happy future was well within his power to a.s.sure.

And what of his own future?

Eldyn gazed at the oil lamp on the table. With a thought and a quick motion of his finger he made the flame flare and twist, so that it took on the shape of a woman with long, fiery hair. The glowing figure danced upon the wick, moving in a flickering tarantella.

Crafting a small glamour such as this barely took an effort now. That much at least Dercy had been able to teach him. But it was a minor trick-not even enough to entice a person to enter a theater, let alone impress them once they paid their quarter regal.

Eldyn sighed. The lamp flame guttered, taking on its usual appearance, and he dipped his pen again in the inkwell. Then he held it above the page, not touching it to the paper. He recalled the day at Sadent, Mornden, & Bayle when he got his first position clerking, how a white-haired clerk had expired right before his eyes and was carted off, and how the head clerk had given Eldyn the old man's pen and seat at the table. held it above the page, not touching it to the paper. He recalled the day at Sadent, Mornden, & Bayle when he got his first position clerking, how a white-haired clerk had expired right before his eyes and was carted off, and how the head clerk had given Eldyn the old man's pen and seat at the table.

Was that all that lay ahead of him? Working as a clerk, totaling endless columns of numbers, until the day he fell off his stool and they pried the quill from his fingers to give to another, younger man?

The low tolling of a single bell drifted through the window, marking the first span of the umbral and the start of night prayers. It was at once a sublime and a mournful sound, and for a moment Eldyn was thirteen again, standing in the dark on the steps of St. Galmuth's, waiting for Vandimeer Garritt to return from some meeting, drunk and angry and as likely as not bearing sc.r.a.ped knuckles and a bloodied lip. How Eldyn had ached to go inside, to escape his father and the wretched hovels they dwelled in-to enter that world of ritual and light he glimpsed through the cathedral doors.

So then why didn't he?

The thought was as clear as the tolling of the bell, resonating through him. Since becoming a man, he had been consumed with the idea of restoring the Garritt family name and fortune. Only, such ideas no longer compelled him. He was free now-free of his debts, free of Westen, and free of his father's spirit. He could do anything he wanted. He could do more than merely work for the Church.

He could enter it.

This idea sent a thrill through Eldyn. That he might again take up a dream so long ago discarded was like discovering a lost treasure one had shut away in a drawer and forgotten. He was still a clerk, though, and he could not help tallying the columns for and against the notion.

For one thing, he would have to save a portion for himself, not just for Sashie, as one entering the clergy was required to pay a grant to the Church. That would require at least another year of saving, and he was already getting to be a bit old to start along the path to priesthood. Yet not impossibly so. Dercy was twenty-five, a year older than Eldyn, and his parents had given him to the clergy just two years ago. saving, and he was already getting to be a bit old to start along the path to priesthood. Yet not impossibly so. Dercy was twenty-five, a year older than Eldyn, and his parents had given him to the clergy just two years ago.

Of course, Dercy had left the old church of St. Adaris after not much more than a year within its walls, drawn by the spell of the theaters on Durrow Street. He could not return to the priesthood now even if he wanted. Eldyn had never read the whole of the Testament, but he was certain there were pa.s.sages in it that condemned what Siltheri did in far stronger terms than the spending of money on a Brightday.

Eldyn had been to tavern after enough performances at the theater to know the proclivities of some illusionists. That the things such men did with one another were sinful was a matter the Church had made abundantly clear. Not that the Siltheri seemed to care. And why should they? If one was already condemned for all eternity, then it could hardly make things any worse to compound one's sins. On the occasions at tavern when he had happened to spy a pair of illusionists off in some shadowed corner, engaging in kisses, the men had seemed to show no concern about the repercussions of their actions. Eldyn could only watch them in fascination, for they always behaved as if what they did was the most pleasant and harmless thing.

Only nothing the Siltheri did was harmless in the view of the Church, and that put another tick in the column against the idea. Eldyn wasn't a true illusionist-as his failures at that theater had proved-but he doubted the Church would make so fine a distinction between the small tricks he had done and what the Siltheri did onstage-or off.

Despite this, an excitement continued to vibrate in Eldyn's chest, as if his heart still felt the thrum of the bell. He could not believe it was impossible that the Church would ever have him. After all, no man was a paragon. It was not any one thing a man did that granted him entrance to Eternum or condemned him to the pits of the Abyss. Rather, it was the final sum in the entire ledger of his existence that mattered. And no one was better at making a column of figures tally out the way he wanted than Eldyn. making a column of figures tally out the way he wanted than Eldyn.

Besides, he was young; he had plenty of time yet to make sure the balance came out in his favor. Heartened by this thought, Eldyn dipped his pen again, blotted the tip, and bent over the ledger.

He had figures to scribe for G.o.d.

CHAPTER THREE.

I TRUST YOU will take this new responsibility seriously, Mr. Rafferdy," Lady Marsdel declaimed in a tone made loud for his benefit-and for that of all in the dining room. "When you take a seat at a.s.sembly, it is not something you do to advance your own cause, but rather the cause of all Altania. This is not a party, where you are used to saying anything at all to claim attention for yourself. Instead, you would do well to sit quietly, listen to your betters, and think long before you stand and raise your voice." TRUST YOU will take this new responsibility seriously, Mr. Rafferdy," Lady Marsdel declaimed in a tone made loud for his benefit-and for that of all in the dining room. "When you take a seat at a.s.sembly, it is not something you do to advance your own cause, but rather the cause of all Altania. This is not a party, where you are used to saying anything at all to claim attention for yourself. Instead, you would do well to sit quietly, listen to your betters, and think long before you stand and raise your voice."

Rafferdy set down his fork and regarded the speaker from down the length of the table. "If I am to listen to my betters, then I must necessarily listen to you, your ladyship. Therefore I will hew close to your advice, and while in a.s.sembly I will endeavor to make myself as vapid, as unwarranted of notice, and as utterly without consequence as possible. In this, I am sure I will be the very model of a member of the Hall of Magnates."

Unlike her voice, her ladyship's frown needed no amplification for its force to carry the distance. "As usual, Mr. Rafferdy, your agreement is of such a nature that I am convinced you mean to do the opposite of all I have just advised. So I say again: this is not some pleasant social affair to which you are going. Taking a seat in the upper hall is a matter of real consequence."

Rafferdy was aware of all at the table directing their attention toward him. He was silent for a moment, and when at last he spoke, it was with that seriousness of which he had only recently learned he was capable.

"I have never thought, your ladyship, that there would be anything pleasant about this affair. If the weight I give this duty does not seem very great to you, it is only because I will not perform it for very long. I am not taking taking a seat in a.s.sembly, as you know, but rather a seat in a.s.sembly, as you know, but rather occupying occupying it until my father can do so again himself. My only aim is to keep his s.p.a.ce on the bench free from dust until his return." it until my father can do so again himself. My only aim is to keep his s.p.a.ce on the bench free from dust until his return."

Lady Marsdel went stiff in her chair. Her pursed lips suggested she was not convinced that Rafferdy's duties in a.s.sembly would in fact be temporary. However, she could not say such a thing, for to do so would be to express something other than firm hope that Lord Rafferdy would soon recover.

As any stream when faced with a hill it cannot surmount must flow along an easier route, the conversation so turned in a less precipitous direction. Mr. Harclint, one of Lady Marsdel's surfeit of nephews, blinked his watery eyes and stated his belief that a.s.sembly would have a great deal of work before it this year, what with the various ills that afflicted the nation.

On that point Sir Earnsley professed agreement, although it was plain that the bluff old baronet thought a.s.sembly's labors would be likely to aggravate such afflictions rather than cure them. Lord Baydon, in turn, clasped his hands across the broad bow of his waistcoat and expressed his unwavering conviction that all of the acts pa.s.sed this year by a.s.sembly would be the most benevolent, the most prudent, and in general the most agreeable laws ever pa.s.sed in the history of Altania.

"Well, I would be content if a.s.sembly pa.s.sed no acts at all," Mr. Baydon declared. "To be enacted, any law must be pa.s.sed by both the Hall of Magnates and the Hall of Citizens. And these days, if the lower hall approves a thing, then it can only be mischief and tomfoolery. They would see gold bestowed upon traitors while loyal servants of Altania are taxed into penury. It would be better, Rafferdy, if you pa.s.sed not a single law at all during this session rather than anything the citizens wanted." better, Rafferdy, if you pa.s.sed not a single law at all during this session rather than anything the citizens wanted."

Mr. Baydon reached to pick up his broadsheet; however, as none were allowed at her ladyship's dining table, he found only his napkin. He gave it a confounded look, then let out a sigh and spread it on his lap.

"Well, I for one am certain that any decrees our Mr. Rafferdy is involved in pa.s.sing will all be very sensible by nature," Mrs. Baydon said, her blue eyes sparkling as she set down her gla.s.s of wine. "I have no doubt that soon all ill-fitting coats, scarves of garish hues, and dreadful hats will be outlawed from public view, and that anyone who commits the offense of being unfashionable will be taken at once to Barrowgate."

Rafferdy maintained his air of seriousness as he regarded Mrs. Baydon; or rather, he heightened it to the point of absurdity. "On the contrary, I would never do anything to impede the unfettered movement of poorly dressed people through the streets of Invarel. Instead, I will propose an act that rewards anyone with twenty regals if they can prove they have worn only the most awful clothes, gone only to the most tedious parties, and said only the dullest things in the past month."

This provoked a furrow upon Mr. Baydon's brow. "Why, you'll empty the exchequer faster than the king with a law like that! Every day there must be a hundred parties in the city, and what party isn't a gathering of outlandishly dressed people saying insipid things? Besides, Rafferdy, in your scheme, shouldn't it be the stylish people who get the twenty regals?"

"Not at all," Mrs. Baydon said delightedly, "for I see now the aim is to increase the throngs of the horridly clothed so that those who are fashionable will appear all the better. Is that not the case, Mr. Rafferdy?"

He nodded at her across the table. "You are always clever at fitting together puzzles, Mrs. Baydon. Besides, there is no need to pay those few who properly attire themselves. Being well-dressed offers its own rewards."

This comment elicited an outburst of mirth around the table. The reaction might have pleased anyone else, but it left Rafferdy unfazed. The good opinions and approval of other people meant nothing to him-so long as he was a.s.sured that he had them. The reaction might have pleased anyone else, but it left Rafferdy unfazed. The good opinions and approval of other people meant nothing to him-so long as he was a.s.sured that he had them.

"Well, you must be a very rich man, Mr. Rafferdy," Captain Branfort said cheerfully, "for no one is ever better attired than you are. I can't fathom how you march apace with fashion as you do. You must practice at it as a soldier practices his drills; and no doubt, for your efforts, you reap a great many of those rewards you mentioned-the admiring looks of young ladies being chief among them."

Captain Branfort sat to Mrs. Baydon's right, as he always seemed to these days. He was a ginger-haired man whose deficit of stature was offset by a surplus of energy. The captain was only a little older than Rafferdy, perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven, but already a large number of medals and ribbons adorned his blue regimental coat.

Mr. and Mrs. Baydon had made the acquaintance of Captain Branfort during a trip to Point Caravel two months ago. Point Caravel was popular not only for its mild climate and picturesque views of the sea, but also for the numerous soldiers, sailors, and officers who were to be found there at certain times of the year.

Mr. Baydon had wanted to go to Point Caravel to escape a series of particularly long and hot lumenals that had plagued the city. However, Mrs. Baydon had confessed to Rafferdy that the presence of so many eligible military men provided an added reason to go, for it was her intention to keep her eyes open for any likely suitors for Mrs. Quent's younger sisters.

Despite these charitable intentions, it seemed Mrs. Baydon had decided to keep the one handsome, unmarried soldier she had found for herself. Recently, Captain Branfort's company had been recalled to Invarel from duty in the West Country. Since then, he had become a common fixture at Lord Baydon's house on Vallant Street and also at Fairhall Street.

Rafferdy gave a laugh. "I am not so rich as you presume, Captain Branfort. In fact, when it comes to attire, I would say you have the advantage. For you never have to labor over your wardrobe, deciding what outfit would win the most esteem. You simply put on your uniform, and your coat a.s.sures you more admiring glances than I will ever be so fortunate to receive." deciding what outfit would win the most esteem. You simply put on your uniform, and your coat a.s.sures you more admiring glances than I will ever be so fortunate to receive."

"Would that it were so, Mr. Rafferdy! If only you knew how many scowls and grimaces my coat has won me of late. I fear in these times that not all of Altania is as civilized as Invarel."

Mr. Baydon made no effort to disguise his snort. "I would hardly call Invarel civilized these days-not when treasonous devils feel free to come and go as they please. If you had told me half a year ago that a band of hoodlums would be so brazen as to take powder kegs to Trawlsden Square and set them off beneath the cenotaph, I would have called you ridiculous. Yet they have gone and done it, and now I can only think that there is nothing they would not do to tear down the very civilization that has given them everything they possess and every freedom they enjoy."

While Rafferdy always made an effort to know as little about current news as possible, there had been no escaping stories about the recent tumult in Trawlsden Square. There had been a paucity of dire news since the Risings in Torland ended, so every broadsheet in the city had seized with relish the chance to blare stories about the incident upon its front page-though whether the act was described as villainous or audacious depended on whether one read about it in The Messenger The Messenger or or The Swift Arrow The Swift Arrow.

At his club, Rafferdy had seen a picture of the aftermath printed in an issue of The Comet The Comet. The vivid impression, created by an illusionist, had shown a heap of blackened, smoking rubble. It was all that remained of a monument to commemorate the Three Corners War, which ended several centuries ago with Hathard Arringhart taking the crown of Altania after his defeat of both the House of Rothdale and the House of Morden.

To this day, some historians suggested that it was the latter of those houses that had possessed the most legitimate claim to the throne after the last of the Mabingorian kings died heirless. That was certainly what Bandley Morden had believed when, backed by a ragged band of rebels, he tried to seize the throne seventy years ago. However, the Old Usurper was driven from the sh.o.r.es of Altania-with, according to popular legend, the help of the magician Slade Vordigan. years ago. However, the Old Usurper was driven from the sh.o.r.es of Altania-with, according to popular legend, the help of the magician Slade Vordigan.

Despite his ousting from Altania, some had never accepted the Old Usurper's defeat-folk in the Outlands, mostly, and especially in Torland. In recent years, it had been whispered that Huntley Morden had made an alliance with one of the Princ.i.p.alities on the edge of the Murgh Empire, and that even now he was ama.s.sing a navy with plans of sailing to Altania to seize the crown his grandfather had failed to win.

Rafferdy had no idea if those rumors were true, but they had been enough to stir up acts of rebellion in the Outlands in the past-and now here in the city. An anonymous letter published in The Fox The Fox claimed the monument had been destroyed because it was an emblem of the wrongful rule of the Arringhart kings and their oppression of the good people of Altania. Not that the cenotaph had been the only casualty, for Trawlsden Square had housed a bustling market. The fact that a number of those same claimed the monument had been destroyed because it was an emblem of the wrongful rule of the Arringhart kings and their oppression of the good people of Altania. Not that the cenotaph had been the only casualty, for Trawlsden Square had housed a bustling market. The fact that a number of those same good people of Altania good people of Altania had lost their lives in the blast seemed not to impinge upon the sensibilities of the rebels or their sympathizers. Apparently being scattered to bits was just another way of securing one's liberty. had lost their lives in the blast seemed not to impinge upon the sensibilities of the rebels or their sympathizers. Apparently being scattered to bits was just another way of securing one's liberty.

Or perhaps it was simply that when the worth of a life became so low, many had to be spent in order to buy anything with them.

"You ask why people would wish to destroy our civilization, Mr. Baydon," Rafferdy said, his voice going low so that the others were forced to lean over the table to hear. "A civilization, you claim, that has given them every possession they have and every freedom they enjoy. Well, perhaps the reason is simply because it has not given them very much of either of those things."

This elicited a number of frowns along the length of the table; another witticism had been expected. Mrs. Baydon gave him a concerned look. Before she could speak, Mr. Baydon let out another snort.

"They are not slaves of the Murghs, are they? These ruffians were all born free men, and thus Altania has given them everything they could ever possibly want. Surely you're not being serious, Mr. Rafferdy!" were all born free men, and thus Altania has given them everything they could ever possibly want. Surely you're not being serious, Mr. Rafferdy!"

Rafferdy drew in a breath, then let it out. "No," he said at last. "No, of course I'm not being serious."

Mr. Baydon appeared ready to expound, but his wife was the swifter. "Must we discuss such awful things at the table?" she said, affecting a pout that, given how perfectly and charmingly it was formed, must have been oft-practiced before a mirror.

"They are not awful things, Mrs. Baydon," Mr. Baydon said, directing a stern look at his wife. "They are important matters that lie before Altania, and you should endeavor to take a greater interest in them."

"No, you are right, madam," Captain Branfort said. He pushed back his chair and stood. "These are grim discussions for a pleasant evening. Yet you must know that all men enjoy battle as a sport, whether on the field of war, in the Halls of a.s.sembly, or around the dining table. Do forgive us."

He made a smart bow, and Mrs. Baydon could not conceal her delight at the gallant gesture, nor Mr. Baydon his annoyance.

After that, the supper proceeded in a more benign fashion. However, as he picked up his spoon, Rafferdy could not agree with the captain's a.s.sertion that all men enjoyed battle. Rafferdy cared nothing for war, and it was his aim to neither cause nor engage in any sort of conflict during his time in a.s.sembly. No, the only campaign that mattered to him was the constant struggle against ba.n.a.lity and boredom.

Unfortunately, that was a battle he had chosen to surrender the moment he accepted the invitation to dine at Lady Marsdel's.