"But if Lord Rahl is a wizard, that would be fearsome magic-like the Dominie Dirtch. He might unleash his power against us if we fail to surrender to him."

He patted her hand before going back to his dressing. "Don't worry, Tess. I'll not let Anderith fall to ashes. And as I said, the Order claims they will end magic. If true, then a wizard wouldn't hold any threat over us. We will just have to see what Stein has to say."

He didn't know how the Imperial Order could end magic.

Magic, after all, had been around as long as the world. Maybe what the Order really meant was that they intended to eliminate those who were gifted. That would not be a novel idea and to Dalton's mind had a chance of success.

There were those who already advocated putting to the torch all the gifted. Anderith held several of the more radical leaders in chains, Serin Raja among them. Charismatic, fanatical, and rabid, Serin Rajak was ungovernable and dangerous. If he was even still alive; they'd had him in chains for months.

Rajak believed "witches," as he called those with magic, to be evil. He had a number of followers he had incited into wild and destructive mobs before they'd arrested him.

Men like that were dangerous. Dalton had lobbied against his execution, though. Men like that could also be useful.

"Oh, and you just won't believe it," Teresa was saying. She had started back on the gossip she'd heard. As he pondered Serin Rajak, he only half listened. "This woman, the one I mentioned, the one who thinks so much of herself, Claudine Winthrop, well, she told us that the Minister forced himself on her."

Dalton was still only half listening. He knew the gossip to be true. Claudine Winthrop was the "perturbed lady" in the message in the secret compartment of his desk, the one for whom he needed to find a plum. She was also the one who had sent the letter to Director Linscott-the letter that never arrived.

Claudine Winthrop hovered around the Minister whenever she had the chance, flirting with him, smiling, batting her eyelashes. What did she think was going to happen? She'd gotten what she had to know she was going to get. Now she complains?

"And so, she's so angry to be treated in such a coarse manner by the Minister, that after the dinner she intends to announce to Lady Chanboor and all the guests that the Minister forced himself on her in the crudest fashion."

Dalton's ears perked up.

"Rape it is, she called it, and rape she intends to report it to the Minister's wife." Teresa turned in her seat to shake a small squirrel-hair eye-color brush up at him. "And to the Directors of Cultural Amity, if any are there. And Dalton, if the Sovereign is there, it could be an ugly row. The Sovereign is liable to hold up a hand, commanding silence, so she may speak."

Dalton was at full attention, now. The twelve Directors would be at the feast. Now, he knew what Claudine Winthrop was about.

"She said this, did she? You heard her say it?"

Teresa put one hand on a hip. "Yes. Isn't that something? She should know what Minister Chanboor is like, how he beds half the women at the estate. And now she plans to make trouble? It should create quite the sensation, I'd say. I tell you, Dalton, she's up to something."

When Teresa started prattling onto another subject, he broke hi and asked, "What had the other women to say about her? About Claudine's plans?"

Teresa set down the squirrel-hair brush. "Well, we all think it's just terrible. I mean, the Minister of Culture is an important man. Why, he could be Sovereign one day-the Sovereign is not a young man anymore. The Minister could be called upon to step into the Seat of Sovereign at any moment. That's a terrible responsibility."

She looked back to the mirror as she worked with a hair pick. She turned once more and shook it at him. "The Minister is terribly overworked, and has the right to seek harmless diversion now and again. The women are willing. It's nobody's business. It's their private lives-it has no bearing on public business. And it's not like the little tramp didn't ask for it."

Dalton couldn't dispute that much of it. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how women, whether a noble or a Haken girl, could bat their lashes at the letch and then be surprised when he rose, so to speak, to the bait.

Of course, the Haken girl, Beata, hadn't been old enough, or experienced enough, to truly understand such mature games. Nor, he supposed, had she foreseen Stein in the bargain. Dalton felt a bit sorry for the girl, even if she was Haken. No, she hadn't seen Stein lurking in the tall wheat when she smiled in awe at the Minister.

But the other women, the women of the household, and mature women come from the city out to the estate for feasts and parties, they knew what the Minister was about, and had no grounds to call foul after the fact.

Dalton knew some only became unhappy when they didn't get some unspecified, but significant, recompense. Some plum. That was when it became Dalton's problem. He found them a plum, and did his best to convince them they would love to have it. Most, wisely, accepted such generosity-it was all many had wanted in the first place.

He didn't doubt that the women of the estate were agitated that Claudine was scheming to bring trouble. Many of those wives had been with the Minister, seduced by the heady air of power around the man. Dalton had reason to suspect many who had not been to the Minister's bed wanted to end there. Bertrand either simply hadn't gotten to them yet, or didn't wish to. Most likely the former; he tended to appoint men to the estate only after he'd met their wives, too. Dalton had already had to turn down a perfectly good man as regent because Bertrand thought his wife too plain.

Not only was there no end to the women swooning to fall under the man, but he was a glutton about it. Even so, he had certain standards. Like many men as they got older, he savored youth.

He was able to indulge his wont for voluptuous young women without needing, as most men passing fifty, to go to prostitutes in the city. In fact, Bertrand Chanboor avoided such women like the plague, fearing their virulent diseases.

Other men his age who could have young women no other way, and could not resist, did not get a chance to grow much older. Nor did the young women. Disease swiftly claimed many.

Bertrand Chanboor, though, had his pick of a steady supply of healthy young women of limited experience, and standards. They flew, of their own accord, into that candle flame of high rank and nearly limitless authority.

Dalton ran the side of his finger gently along Teresa's cheek. He was fortunate to have a woman who shared his ambition but, unlike many others, was discerning in how to go about it.

"I love you, Tess."

Surprised by his sudden tender gesture, she took his hand in both of hers and planted kisses all along it.

He didn't know what he could possibly have done in his life to deserve her. There had been nothing about him that would augur well for his ever having a woman as good as Teresa. She was the one thing in his life he had not earned by sheer force of will, by cutting down any opposition, eliminating any threat to his goal. With her, he had simply been helplessly hi love.

Why the good spirits chose to ignore the rest of his life and reward him with this plum, he couldn't begin to guess, but he would take it and hold on for dear life.

Business intruded on his lustful wanderings as he stared into her adoring eyes.

Claudine would require attention. She needed to be silenced, and before she could cause trouble. Dalton ticked off favors he might have to offer her in return for seeing the sense in silence. No one, not even Lady Chanboor, gave much thought to the Minister's dalliances, but an accusation of rape by a woman of standing would be troublesome.