"One more time? So what?" one of the women said. "They do us, now we do them, too." She gestured to show what she meant, in case the king hadn't understood her. But he had. And he did send her over the river.

She came back, too. So did both the men Grus sent with her. One of them said, "Not many Menteshe. Like this." He opened and closed his hands a few times. "Not like this." Now he opened and closed them many times. The other man and the woman both nodded.

Grus still had to decide whether he believed them. If the Banished One held some control over them even now, this would be a good time for him to use it. He could badly hurt the Avornans if they ran into more nomads than they expected while crossing the river. He could… if he held some control over them even now.

But if he did, then everything the Avornans tried south of the Stura was bound to fail anyhow. Grus refused to believe it. His refusal, of course, might prove one of the last thoughts he ever had while still in possession of his mind and will. He knew as much. He gave the orders anyway.

The Avornans demonstrated downstream from where they'd encamped. A few riders crossed the river. Many soldiers looked as though they were getting ready to cross. The Menteshe galloped west to try to head them off – and most of the Avornans went over the river upstream from their camp. They rolled down on the nomads, scattered them, and drove them off in flight.

Grus gave a golden ring to each of the thralls who'd gone across to spy on the Menteshe. The two men had learned enough by then to bow low in thanks. That woman sent him a smoldering smile. She was awake and fully herself, but she hadn't yet figured out how to hide for politeness' sake what she had in mind.

She was pretty, and shapely, too. Once she was cleaned up, she would turn heads anywhere. All the same, Grus pretended not to notice the way she looked at him. Taking her to bed would be almost as bad, almost as unfair, as bedding a woman who remained a thrall. She needed time to figure out who and what she was. Once she'd done that… Once she's done that, I'll be far away, Grus thought. Probably just as well, too, for both of us.

She didn't try to hide her disappointment, either, or her annoyance. Grus also pretended not to notice those. He had other things on his mind. Maybe the Banished One was biding his time with the thralls. It was either that or the Avornan sorcerers really were taking them out of the exiled god's control. Little by little, Grus began to believe it.

Ortalis came up to Lanius in a palace corridor with an odd expression on his face. Grus' legitimate son seemed to be trying to look friendly, but he wasn't having a whole lot of luck. At least he didn't look as though he wanted to pummel Lanius, the way he had ever since they quarreled.

"Good morning," Lanius said. He'd never given up being polite to Ortalis. As far as he was concerned, the quarrel was all inside his brother-in-law's mind, such as that was.

"Good morning." Ortalis sounded as grudging as he looked. But he went on making an effort, saying, "How are you today?"

"Pretty well, thanks." Lanius pointed out the window. The view showed flowers in the palace garden, bright blue sky, and puffy white clouds drifting along on a lazy breeze. "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." By the way Ortalis said it, he hadn't even thought about the weather until Lanius brought it up. Again, though, he tried to hold up his end of things. "Not too hot. Not too cold. Just right."

It wasn't scintillating conversation, but it was conversation – more than Lanius had had from Ortalis for quite a while. Out in the garden, a sparrow chirped. A jay let out a couple of raucous screeches from a tree not far away. Lanius said, "Good to have all the birds back from the south."

"That's true." Now Ortalis showed some enthusiasm, even if it wasn't of the sort Lanius might have chosen; he said, "Songbirds done up in a stew or baked in a pie with carrots and onions and peas are mighty tasty."

"Well, so they are." Lanius like songbirds in a pie, too. Even if he didn't, he wouldn't have contradicted his brother-in-law just then. He did say, "I like to hear them singing. It's one of the things that tell me spring is here, along with the sweet smells from the flowers."

"Limosa likes flowers, too." Ortalis might have announced that his wife liked Thervingian poetry – to him, it was obviously her eccentricity. "Some of them do have nice colors," he allowed, as though he'd learned a few words of Thervingian himself to humor her.

"Yes, they do." Lanius enjoyed the poppies and roses and bluebells. He eyed Ortalis, wondering as he often did what went on in his brother-in-law's head. He sometimes thought he was better off not knowing. But, if Ortalis was working hard to act civilized, the least he could do himself was keep matching Grus' son. And so he asked once more, "How are you today?"

"I'm… not too bad." Ortalis hesitated, then went on, "Anser had a few things to say to me."

"Did he?" Lanius worked hard to keep his tone neutral. He didn't want Ortalis to know that had been his idea.

His brother-in-law nodded. "He did. He said he knew why the two of us squabbled. He said the whole palace knew about it. I don't much fancy that."

"Not a whole lot we can do about it now," Lanius said. There would have been a lot less palace gossip if Ortalis' tastes hadn't run to the whip. Telling him so was unlikely to change those tastes, worse luck.

"I suppose not." Ortalis didn't seem convinced. He never believed anything could be his fault, even in a small way. The only exception to that rule that Lanius had ever seen came when his brother-in-law went hunting. If Ortalis missed a shot, he laughed and joked about it the way a miller or a leather worker would have. But he was different in many regards when he went hunting.

"Well… any which way, I'm glad you're not angry anymore," Lanius said.

The corners of Ortalis' mouth turned down. Pretty plainly, he was still angry. Lanius hadn't really thought he wasn't. But Grus' legitimate son nodded a moment later. "Not worth making a big fuss about," he said. Coming from him, that was the height of graciousness.

Lanius nodded, acknowledging as much. "I don't think it is, either," he said, and held out his hand.

Ortalis clasped it. He squeezed just hard enough to let Lanius know he could have hurt him if he'd squeezed harder. That was Ortalis to the core. Then he cocked his head to one side and studied Lanius. "What are you and the beast trainer doing with that silly animal?"

"Seeing how much he can learn," Lanius answered easily. Whatever else he had in mind was his business, not Ortalis'.

"Seems like you're spending a lot of silver while you're at it," his brother-in-law observed.

Lanius only shrugged. "It's a hobby. Everybody has them." Unlike Ortalis', his didn't involve dealing out pain. Mentioning that just after they'd made up seemed a bad idea, so he didn't. Instead, he went on, "I'm not throwing the money at a lot of loose women. That keeps your sister happy."

Ortalis only shrugged. "I don't lose any sleep over what my sister thinks. I never have, and I don't suppose I ever will." From things Sosia had said, she and Ortalis hadn't gotten along even when they were children. Now, of course, Ortalis had a new reason to resent her – her son might stand in the way of his offspring when it came to the succession. I hope Limosa has another girl. Lanius didn't say that, no matter how strongly he felt it.

Ortalis set a hand on his shoulder. Again, the prince squeezed a little harder than he might have. "Have fun with your hobby," he said, and went on his way.

Lanius had expected he would do more snooping about the moncat. The king would have gone on saying as little as he could if Ortalis had. He might have talked with Grus and Pterocles about what he was up to. If it ever became absolutely necessary, he might have with Collurio.