Finally, he thought maybe he'd ask her about something that had made her smile before. Besides, it was why he had really wanted to walk along with her in the first place.

"Franca, what was the Wizard's Keep like?"

He was right; she did smile. "Huge. You can't even imagine it, and I couldn't tell you how big it is. It stands up on a mountain overlooking Aydindril, beyond a stone bridge crossing a chasm thousands of feet deep. Part of the Keep is cut from the mountain itself. There are notched walls rising up like cliffs. Broad ramparts, wider than this road, go to various structures. Towers rise up above the Keep, here and there. It was magnificent."

"Did you ever see a Seeker of Truth? Did you ever see the Sword of Truth, when you was there?"

She frowned over at him. "You know, as a matter of fact, I did. My mother was a sorceress. She went to Aydindril to see the First Wizard about something-what, I've no idea. We went across one of those ramparts to the First Wizard's enclave in the Keep. He has a separate place where he had wonders of every sort. I remember that bright and shiny sword."

She seemed well pleased with telling him about it, so he asked, "What was it like? The First Wizard's enclave? And the Sword of Truth?"

"Well, let me see…." She put a finger to her chin to think a moment before she began her story.

When Dalton Campbell reached to dip his pen, he saw the legs of a woman walking through the doorway into his office. By the thick ankles he knew before his gaze lifted that it was Hildemara Chanboor. If there was a woman with less appealing legs, he had yet to meet her.

He set down the pen and rose with a smile. "Lady Chanboor, please, come in."

In the outer office, the morning sunlight revealed Rowley on duty, standing ready to summon the messengers should Dalton have call for them. He didn't at the moment, but with Hildemara Chanboor paying a visit, that eventuality seemed more likely.

As she closed the door, Dalton went around his desk and pulled out a comfortable chair in invitation. She wore a wool dress the color of straw. The color of the dress conveyed a sickly pallor to her flesh. The hem came to midcalf on her puffy, straight, pillar-like legs.

Hildemara glanced briefly at the chair, but remained standing.

"So good to see you, Lady Chanboor."

She put on a smile. "Oh, Dalton, must you always be so proper? We've known each other long enough for you to call me Hildemara." He opened his mouth to thank her, but she added, "When we're alone."

"Of course, Hildemara."

Hildemara Chanboor never made visits to inquire after anything so mundane as matters of work. She only arrived like a chill wind before a storm. Dalton decided it best to let the foul weather build on its own, without his help, like some wizard summoning it forth. He also thought it better to keep the meeting on a more formal level, despite her indulgence with her name.

Her brow bunched, as if her attention were distracted. She reached out to fuss with a possibly loose thread on his shoulder. Sunlight streaming in the windows sparkled off the jewels on her fingers, and the blood-red ruby necklace hanging across the expanse of exposed skin on her upper chest. The dress wasn't nearly as low-cut as those worn lately at feasts, yet he still found its cut less than refined.

With a woman's tidy touch, Hildemara picked and then smoothed. Dalton glanced, but didn't see anything. Seeming to have satisfied herself, her hand gently pressed out the fabric of his light coat against his shoulder.

"My, my, Dalton, but don't you have fine shoulders. So muscular and firm." She looked into his eyes. "Your wife is a lucky woman to have a man so well endowed."

"Thank you, Hildemara." His caution prevented him saying another word.

Her hand moved to his cheek, her bejeweled fingers gliding over the side of his face.

"Yes, she is a very lucky woman."

"And your husband is a lucky man."

Chortling, she withdrew her hand. "Yes, he is often lucky. But, as is said, what is commonly thought luck is often merely the result of incessant practice."

"Wise words, Hildemara."

The cynical laugh evaporated and she soon returned the hand to his collar, ordering it, as if it needed ordering. Her hand wandered to the side of his neck, a finger licking the rim of his ear.

"The word I hear is that your wife is faithful to you."

"I am a lucky man, my lady."

"And that you are equally faithful to her."

"I care for her deeply, and I also respect the vows we have taken."

"How quaint." Her smile widened. She pinched his cheek. He thought it more stern than playful in manner. "Well, someday I hope to convince you to be a little less… stuffy, in your attitudes, shall we say."

"If any woman could open my eyes to a broader attitude, Hildemara, it would be you."

She patted his cheek, the cynical laugh returning. "Oh, Dalton, but you are an exceptional man."

"Thank you, Hildemara. Coming from you that is quite the compliment."

She took a breath as if to change the mood. "And you did an exceptional job with Claudine Winthrop and Director Linscott. Why, I never imagined anyone could so deftly lance two boils at once."

"I do my best for the Minister and his lovely wife."

She regarded him with cold calculation. 'The Minister's wife was quite humiliated by the woman's loose lips."

"I don't believe she will be any further-"

"I want her done away with."

Dalton cocked his head. "I beg your pardon?"

Hildemara Chanboor's expression soured.

"Kill her."

Dalton straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "Might I inquire as to the reason you would request such a thing?"

"What my husband does is his business. The Creator knows he is what he is and nothing short of castration will change it. But I'll not have women humiliating me before the household by making me look a fool. Discreet indulgences are one thing; publicly airing tales to make me the butt of whispering and jokes is quite another."

"Hildemara, I don't believe Claudine's loose talk was in any way meant to place you at any disadvantage, nor should it, but rather to denounce Bertrand for inappropriate conduct. Nevertheless, I can assure you she has been silenced and has lost her position of trust among people in authority."

"My, my, Dalton, but aren't you the gallant one."

"Not at all, Hildemara. I just hope to show you-"

She took hold of his collar again, her manner no longer gentle. "She has become revered by foolish people who actually believe that load of dung about starving children and putting men to work with her law. They crowd her door seeking her favor in any number of causes.

"Such reverence by the people is dangerous, Dalton. It gives her power. Worse, though, was the nature of the charges she made. She was telling people Bertrand forced himself on her. That amounts to rape.".

He knew where she was going, but he preferred she put words to it, and clear excuse to her orders. Such would later leave him with more arrows should he ever need them and her less room for denial, or for abandoning him to the wolves, if it suited her purpose or worse, her mood.

"An accusation of rape would elicit hardly more than a yawn from the people," Dalton said. "I could easily get them to see such a thing as the prerogative of a man in a position of great power who needed a simple and harmless release of tension. None would seriously begrudge him such a victimless act. I could easily prove the Minister to be above such common law."

Her fist tightened on his collar.

"But Claudine could be brought into the Office of Cultural Amity and invited to testify. The Directors fear Bertrand's power, and skill. They are jealous of me, too. Should they have a mind, they might champion the woman's cause as offensive to the Creator, even if outside commoners' law.