Teresa smiled. "Yes, please."

Dalton lifted two dilled veal balls from the platter held out by the squire. The Haken boy genuflected, spun with a light step, and glided past. Dalton set the meat on the charger he shared with Teresa as she nibbled on her favorite of suckling rabbit.

Dalton was tired and bored with the lengthy feast. He had work of importance that needed tending. Certainly his first responsibility was tending the Minister, but that goal would be better served handling matters behind the curtain of governance than on stage nodding and laughing at the Minister's witticisms.

Bertrand was waving a sausage as he told a joke to several wealthy merchants at the far end of the head table. By the merchants' guttural laughter, and the way Bertrand wielded the sausage, Dalton knew what sort of joke it was. Stein particularly enjoyed the bawdy story.

As soon as the laughter died down, Bertrand graciously apologized to his wife and asked that she forgive his joke. She let out a titter and dismissed it with an airy wave of a hand, adding that he was incorrigible. The merchants chuckled at her good-natured indulgence of her husband.

Teresa gently elbowed Dalton and whispered, "What was that joke the Minister told? I couldn't hear it."

"You should thank the Creator he didn't bless you with better hearing. It was one of Bertrand's jokes, if you follow."

"Well," she said with a grin, "will you tell me when we get home?"

Dalton smiled. "When we get home, Tess, I'll demonstrate it."

She let out a throaty laugh. Dalton picked up one of the veal balls and dragged it through a wine-and-ginger sauce. He let her have a bite and lick some of the sauce off his finger before putting the rest in his mouth.

As he chewed, he turned his attention to three of the Directors across the room engaged in what looked to be a serious conversation. They gestured expansively while leaning in, frowning, shaking their heads, and holding up fingers to make their point. Dalton knew what the conversation concerned. Nearly every conversation around the room involved a similar topic: the murder of Claudine Winthrop.

The Minister, wearing a purple-and-rust-striped close-fitting sleeveless jerkin over a golden-wheat-patterned sleeved doublet, draped his arm over Dalton's shoulders as he leaned close. The white raffs at the Minister's wrist were stained with red wine, making him look as if he were bleeding from under the tight sleeve.

"Everyone is still quite upset over Claudine's murder," said Bertrand.

"And rightly so." Dalton dipped a mutton cube in mint jelly. "It was a terrible tragedy."

"Yes, it has made us all realize how frail is the grip we have on the ideals of civilized behavior we so cherish. It has shown us how much work yet lies before us in order to bring Hakens and Anders together in a peaceful society."

"With your wise leadership," Teresa said with genuine enthusiasm as Dalton ate the mutton cube, "we will succeed."

"Thank you for your support, my dear." Bertrand leaned just a little closer to Dalton, lowering his voice a bit, too. "I hear the Sovereign might be ill."

"Really?" Dalton sucked the mint jelly off his finger. "Is it serious?"

Bertrand shook his head in mock sorrow. "We've had no word."

"We will pray for him," Teresa put in as she selected a slender slice of peppered beef. "And for poor Edwin Winthrop."

Bertrand smiled. "You are a most thoughtful and kind-hearted woman, Teresa." He stared at her bodice, as if to see her kind heart beating there, behind her exposed cleavage. "If I am ever stricken ill, I could ask for no more noble a woman than you to pray to the Creator on my behalf. Surely, His own heart would melt at your tender beseeching words."

Teresa beamed. Hildemara, nibbling on a slice of pear, asked her husband a question and he turned back to her.

Stein leaned in to converse with them about something. They all pulled back when a squire brought a platter of crisped beef.

As Stein took a handful of the crisped beef, Dalton glanced again at the Directors, still engaged in their discussion. He scanned the table opposite them and caught the eye of Franca Gowenlock. The woman's face told him that she was unable to detect any of it. Dalton didn't know what was wrong with her powers, but it was becoming a serious impediment.

A squire held a silver platter toward the Minister. He took several slices of pork. Another came with lamb in lentil, which Hildemara favored. A steward poured more wine for the head table before moving on. The Minister enfolded a husband's arm around Hildemara's shoulder and spoke to her in a whisper.

A server entered carrying a large basket piled high with small loaves of brown bread. He took it to the serving board to be transferred onto silver trays. From a distance, Dalton couldn't tell if there was any problem with the bread. A large quantity of it had been declared unfit for the feast and had been consigned for donation to the poor. Leftover food from feasts, usually great quantities of it, was distributed to the poor.

Master Drummond had had some sort of trouble down in the kitchen earlier in the day with the baking of the bread. Something to do with the ovens going "crazy," as the man described it, A woman was badly burned before she could be doused. Dalton had more important things to worry about than baking bread, and hadn't inquired further.

"Dalton," the Minister said, returning his attention to his aide, "have you managed to prove out any evidence about the murder of poor Claudine Winthrop?"

On the other side of the Minister, Hildemara looked keenly interested in hearing Dalton's answer.

"I've been looking into several promising areas," Dalton said without committing himself. "I hope to soon reach a conclusion to the investigation."

As always, they had to be circumspect when they spoke at feasts, lest words they would not want repeated be carried to listening ears. Gifted listeners other than Franca might be present and having no trouble with their ability. Dalton, to say nothing of Bertrand and his wife, didn't doubt that the Directors might be using the gifted.

"Well, the thing is," Bertrand said, "Hildemara tells me some people are getting quite concerned that we aren't taking the matter seriously enough."

• Dalton began to offer evidence to the contrary, when Bertrand held up a hand and went on.

"Of course this isn't true at all. I know for a fact how hard you've been working on apprehending the criminals."

"Day and night," Teresa said. "I can assure you, Minister Chanboor, Dalton is hardly getting any sleep of late, what with how hard he has been working since poor Claudine's murder."

"Oh I know," Hildemara said as she leaned past her husband to pat Dalton's wrist in a show for Teresa and any watching eyes. "I know how hard Dalton has been working. Everyone appreciates all he is doing. We know of the great number of people he has brought in to be interviewed for information.

"It's just that some people are beginning to question if all the effort is ever going to produce the guilty party. People fear the killers still among them and are eager to settle the matter."

"That's right," Bertrand said, "and we, more than anyone, want the murder solved so as to have the peace of mind that our people can rest safely again."

"Yes," Hildemara said, with a cold glint in her eye. "It must be solved."

There was no mistaking the icy command in her tone. Dalton didn't know if Hildemara had told Bertrand what she had ordered be done with Claudine, but it wouldn't really matter to him. He was finished with the woman and had moved on to others. He wouldn't mind at all if she cleaned up his mess behind him and silenced any potential trouble.