It was no idle boast, and she knew it. He studied the sword as intently as he studied the law. Dalton could behead a flea on a peach without disturbing the fuzz.

Teresa smirked. "He need not look my way, and he'll not sleep alone tonight, either. There will be women fighting over the chance to be with so outrageous a man. Human scalps…” She shook her head at so astounding a notion. "The woman who wins his bed will be at the head of every invitation for months to come."

"Maybe they would like to invite a Haken girl to tell them how exciting and grand it was," Dalton snapped.

"Haken girl?" Teresa grunted dismissively at such whimsy. "I think not. Haken girls don't count to those women."

She turned once more to the important part of his news.

"So, no decision has yet been made? We still don't know if Anderith will stick with the Midlands, or if we will break and join with Emperor Jagang from the Old World?"

"No, we don't yet know how it will go. The Directors are divided. Stein only just arrived to speak his piece."

She stretched up on her toes to give him a peck. "I will stay away from the man. While you help decide the fate of Anderith, I will watch your back, as always, and keep my ears open."

She took a step toward the bedroom, but spun back to him. "If the man has come to speak his side of matters…” Sudden realization stole into her dark eyes. "Dalton, the Sovereign is going to be here tonight, isn't he? The Sovereign himself will be at the feast."

Dalton took her chin in his fingertips. "A smart wife is the best ally a man can have."

Smiling, he let her seize him by his little fingers and tug, pulling him into the dressing room. "I've only seen the man from afar. Oh, Dalton, you are a marvel, bringing me to such a place as I would get to break bread with the Sovereign himself."

"You just remember what I said and stay away from Stein, unless I'm with you. For that matter, the same goes for Bertrand, though I doubt he'd dare to cross me. If you're good, I'll introduce you to the Sovereign."

She was struck speechless for only a moment. "When we retire to bed tonight, you will find out just how good I can be. The spirits preserve me," she added in a whisper, "I hope I can wait that long. The Sovereign. Oh, Dalton, you are a marvel."

While she sat before a mirror on her dressing table, checking her face to see what damage he had wrought with his kisses, Dalton pulled open the tall wardrobe. "So, Tess, what gossip have you heard?"

He peered into the wardrobe, looking through his shirts, looking for the one with the collar he liked best. Since her dress was a golden color, he changed his plans and decided to wear his red coat. Best, anyway, if he was to put forth an assured appearance.

As Teresa leaned toward the mirror, dabbing her cheeks with a small sponge she had dragged across a silver container of rose-colored powder, she rambled on about the gossip of the house. None of it sounded important to Dalton. His thoughts wandered to the real concerns with which he had to deal, to the Directors he had yet to convince, and about how to handle Bertrand Chanboor.

The Minister was a cunning man, a man Dalton understood. The Minister shared Dalton's ambition, if in a larger, more public sense. Bertrand Chanboor was a man who wanted everything-everything from a Haken girl- who caught his eye to the seat of the sovereign. If Dalton had any say, and he did, Bertrand Chanboor would get what Bertrand Chanboor wanted.

And Dalton would have the power and authority he wanted. He didn't need to be Sovereign. Minister of Culture would do.

The Minister of Culture was the true power in the land of Anderith, making most laws and appointing magistrates to see them carried through. The Minister of Culture's influence and authority touched every business, every person in the land. He held sway over commerce, arts, institutions, and beliefs. He oversaw the army and all public projects. He was the embodiment of religion, as well. The Sovereign was all ceremony and pomp, jewels and exquisite dress, parties and affairs.

No, Dalton would «settle» for Minister of Culture. With a Sovereign who danced on the cobweb Dalton thrummed.

"I had your good boots polished," Teresa said. She pointed to the other side of the wardrobe. He bent to retrieve them.

"Dalton, what news is there from Aydindril? You said Stein is to speak his peace of the Old World, and the Imperial Order. What about Aydindril? What has the Midlands to say?"

If there was one thing that could spoil Dalton's ambitions and plans, it was the events in Aydindril.

"The ambassadors returning from Aydindril reported that the Mother Confessor has not only thrown her lot, and that of the Midlands, in with Lord Rahl, the new leader of the D'Haran Empire, but she was to marry the man. By now, she — must be wedded to him."

"Married! The Mother Confessor herself, married." Teresa returned her attention to the mirror. "That must have been a grand affair. I can imagine such a wedding would put anything in Anderith to shame." Teresa paused at her mirror. "But a Confessor's power takes a man when she marries him. This Lord Rahl will be nothing but a puppet of the Mother Confessor."

Dalton shook his head. "Apparently, he is gifted, and not subject to being destroyed by her power. She's a clever one, marrying a gifted Lord Rahl of D'Hara; it shows cunning, conviction, and deft strategic planning. Joining the Midlands with D'Hara has created an empire to be feared, an empire to be reckoned with. It will be a difficult decision."

The ambassadors had further reported Lord Rahl a man of seeming integrity, a man of great conviction, a man committed to peace and the freedom of those who joined with him.

He was also a man who demanded their surrender into the growing D'Haran Empire, and demanded it immediately.

Men like that tended to be unreasonable. A man like that could be no end of trouble.

Dalton brought out a shirt and held it up to show Teresa. She nodded her approval. He stripped to the waist and slipped his arms into the crisp, clean shirt, savoring the fresh aroma.

"Stein brings Emperor Jagang's offer of a place for us in his new world order. We will hear what he has to say."

If Stein was any indication, the Imperial Order understood the nuances of power. Unlike all indications from Aydindril, they were willing to negotiate a number of points important to Dalton and the Minister.

"And the Directors? What have they to say about our fate?"

Dalton grunted his discontent. "The Directors committed to the old ways, to the so-called freedom of the people of the Midlands, dwindle in number all the time. The Directors insisting we stay with the rest of the Midlands-join with Lord Rahl-are becoming isolated voices. People are tired of hearing their outdated notions and uninspired morals."

Teresa set down her brush. Worry creased her brow. "Will we have war, Dalton? With whom will we side? Will we be thrown into war, then?"

Dalton laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "The war is going to be a long, bloody struggle. I have no interest in being dragged into it, or having our people dragged into it. I'll do what I must to protect Anderith."

Much hinged on which side held the upper hand. There was no point in joining the losing side.

"If need be, we can unleash the Dominie Dirtch. No army, not Lord Rahl's, not Emperor Jagang's, can stand against such a weapon. But, it would be best, before the fact, to join the side offering the best terms and prospects."

She clasped his hand. "But this Lord Rahl is a wizard. You said he was gifted. There is no telling what a wizard might do."

"That might be a reason to join with him. But the Imperial Order has vowed to eliminate magic. Perhaps they have ways of countering his ability."