Brill was upset and Miriam, who hadn't expected any of this, was taken aback. "Whoa! It's all right. Seriously, we've been in the middle of a real mess and if you had to go fight security fires for Angbard-or whatever-then obviously, there were higher priorities than acting nursemaid for me. And you're here now, which is the main thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I should have been here earlier." Brill frowned. "Not letting you run amok." For a moment her flashing grin returned. "So what else have you been up to?"

Miriam sighed. "Etiquette lessons. Basic hochsprache." She began ticking points off on her fingers: "Learning to ride, memorizing long lists of who's related to who, learning to dance-court dances, over here, that is-endless appointments with the dressmaker. Oh, and getting pissed off about being given the runaround. About when I can get back to my business, that kind of thing." She pulled a face. "What's missing from this picture?" Besides brooding over- She stopped that line of thought dead. Brill hadn't concealed her opinion of Roland very effectively, but she knew better than to pick a fight with Miriam over his memory, especially when Miriam very definitely wasn't over him.

"Let us see. Long lists of who is who-did Kara think to instruct you in their scandals or holdings? Or worse?" Brill raised an eyebrow. "No? Methought it unlikely. The rest is not unexpected. The travel restrictions…" She frowned again. "I think if it was solely the decision of your uncle you should be able to return from whence you were summoned immediately. He instructed me to tell you to pay your corvée regularly. I think he wishes to shine your loyalty, to demonstrate you are reliable enough as a courier to trust with world-walking. One week or two, he says, and you should be assigned a regular courier duty to the new outposts, with permission to overnight there when not needed here. This would be unofficial, but should anyone ask they can be told you're running errands simple, not looking to your faction. Discretion is the watchword."

"Uh." Miriam blinked, taken aback. "That's-well. That's far too easy. After yesterday, I was expecting the third degree…"

"Henryk convinced you that you were under arrest?" Brill tossed her head as the door opened. "I'll take that." The maid closed the door and Brill transferred the silver tray to the top of a chest of drawers. "The baron is jealous of the demands upon his time, whosoever makes them," she said. "He wished you subdued for the while. Either that, else there's a discord over how to handle you. Here, this is yours."

Miriam took the mug. "I'm confused. Or he was trying to lower my expectations. Wasn't he?"

"In all probability." Brill sat down again. "I can't believe you bearded the lion in his den, without appointment," she added with a curious grin.

"I'm not sure I can, either," Miriam admitted. "Understand, I'm not going to blame Kara-but if she was up to managing my affairs herself I'd have known better than to go barging in. The whole issue just wouldn't have arisen in the first place. I'm not an idiot, Brill, just-"

"I would never say you were an idiot!"

"-inadequately informed. And I never said you thought I was, but you know what I mean, right? I don't like looking stupid, Brill."

"Well." Brilliana took a deep breath: "Be it so little consolation to you, I am supposed to be your confidante, and your honor is mine. It dishonors me-directly-should you look stupid. I plead purely out of self-interest, you understand, not at all speaking as your friend who wishes to return the favor you did me in Boston." She smiled briefly and continued, "So if you tell me what you want to achieve, I shall try to find a way to make it happen, if not instantly then certainly as rapidly as possible. How should that go?"

"Okay." Miriam screwed her eyes shut. "That's what Baron Henryk told me, you know: to work out what I want, then tell him. Over dinner, maybe next week." She opened her eyes and focused on Brilliana as if seeing her for the first time. Perhaps she was, for Helge's ghost was prompting her, Take your allies where you find them, and Brill was surely the nearest thing to an ally Miriam had within the Clan. "So. How about it? First, we should arrange for me to dine with the good baron next week-and yourself, I think. Secondly, I want to get back out to see how my company is running, as soon as possible. Thirdly, Ma has been dropping scarily vague hints about marriage, and this crazy old-" She caught herself. "Sorry. The king's mother. Angelin. She's dropping broad hints. I need to know what she wants. Never mind that creepy prince Egon. And what's got into Ma-Patricia. Can you find out?"

Brill's eyes went very wide at the last confessions. She clenched her hands between her knees and leaned back on her stool: "The Queen Mother bespoke you? About Egon?"

"No, Egon threatened me-the Queen Mother just wanted a chat-"

"He threatened you? Miriam, that is completely beyond my conscience! Does Duke Angbard know?"

"Why wouldn't he?" It was Miriam's turn to look startled. "He's head of the Clan's intelligence apparatus! Isn't it his job to know things like that?"

"Only if people tell him!" Brill stood up, agitatedly. "I imagine I can do something toward your first two desires, but this-this is new to me. I think I had better write to the duke, by your leave. Miriam, you must steer clear of Prince Egon! He's not-he's-"

"Whoa. I got the message, very clearly, that he doesn't like me, or my relatives. Is that it? Or is there something more?"

Brill nodded, vigorously. "You know their nicknames? The two princes?"

"The…" Miriam's forehead creased.

"The Idiot and the Pervert," Brill said tightly. "The Idiot is clear enough. The Pervert-there are rumors. Pray you don't come to his attention."

"Huh?" Miriam stared at her. "What are you trying to tell me? He's a rapist? Wouldn't there be some kind of…" She trailed off, a sick realization stealing over her.

"He's the heir to the throne," Brill said, clearly and slowly, as if talking to a young and rather stupid child. "He has, as a duke in his own right, the right of summary justice. The only lord with the authority to hear a case against him is his own father. Such a case would depend upon the plaintiffs and the witnesses living long enough to bring suit. This is not America, Miriam. There, if the rich and powerful want to get away with murder, they must pay lawyers and judges. Here, they are the judges." Her expression brightened. "Having said that, if the crown prince tried to use such as you or I for sport, he could expect the full weight of the Clan to oppose him. Likely, even his father would disown him. You are not some peasant."

Miriam shuddered. "And if he comes to power?"

"He won't move against us." There was a hard edge to Brilliana's voice. "He may be wicked, but he isn't stupid. We are like your America in some ways: our king rules by the will of the people-at least, the people who count. The succession has to be ratified by the landsknee, the dukes and barons. If he offends too many of them, he risks his coronation." Her expression softened. "But please, make sure someone knows if he menaces you again. Otherwise…"

"I get the picture." Miriam nodded jerkily. Jesus, is Egon some kind of serial killer? Or am I misunderstanding something, and it's just hardball politics? Somehow the idea that her encounter with Egon was simply political business as usual didn't make sense. "What about the Queen Mother?"

"Oh, she's safe," Brill said dismissively. "She's family, after a fashion." She paused, looking thoughtful. "And she noticed you? Ha. It can't be about Egon, he's already earmarked for an alliance with the Nordmarkt, which means-Creon? She aims to put him into play?" She looked distant for a moment. "A royal match would seem fantastical, upon its face, but-"