On Else's ninth day with the Arniena, Rogoz Sayag appeared as he was teaching three Arniena boys exercises that would improve their stamina against the day they got involved in a duel. "Remember. When two fighters of equal skill meet, the one whose strength lasts longest will be the survivor." He used "survivor" rather man "victor" deliberately.

"Good lesson for them to learn, Hecht." Sayag got it.

"When they're young they think only the other guy is mortal. These boys listen, though. That's good."

Rogoz said, "You've done this before. They do pay attention."

"They're good kids. The main thing I want to get through to them is that half the people who get into duels lose."

"Definitely a difficult lesson. My father wants you. The Don has arranged a meeting with Paludan Bruglioni."

Else grunted. "Soon?"

“Tonight, I think. Not thrilled?"

"Not only am I old enough to know that half the people who get into duels lose, I'm old enough to know that, no matter how good you are, there's always somebody better." Else told the Arniena boys to knock off for the day.

"I'm not sure I follow all of that but I'll take your word for it."

Salny Sayag suggested, "Take a chair, Hecht." Else no longer found that western affectation awkward. The old man said, "I've talked you up to Paludan Bruglioni. He'll put on a show of reluctance but he's eager to take on someone like you. Which should work out well for you. All you have to do is look like you're what he wants you to be."

Else grunted, then said, "There's been a couple things bothering me. One is, why would a family the size of the Bruglioni need to bring in outside help? They lost a couple of important sons but I can't see that weakening them to the point where…"

"But it did. You're correct. There're a lot of Bruglionis. And every Bruglioni gets away from Brothe as soon as he can. Paludan is a difficult man. He's consumed by hatred. He keeps it hidden most of the time, though. His brother, and their father, were also miserable souls."

That sounded like a good emotional handle.

Sayag continued, "Last century there was a fad where the Brothen rich considered themselves too good to soil their own hands with war or commerce. The more hirelings a family had, the higher its status. The Bruglioni took that too much to heart. They never really got over it. After a parade of uninspired chieftains, they've pretty much lost their ability to do anything useful themselves."

"I see." He did not.

"The Bruglioni who died in Madhur Plaza were their best young men. Only their reputation for savagery and brutality protects them now. But the wolves smell weakness. The vultures are circling. Paludan's hired swords have all deserted. The Brotherhood of War has him marked. They're convinced that he was behind the killing of their men the night he lost his sons. A Bruglioni servant says he saw the missing heads inside the Bruglioni citadel the next day. And rumor says Paludan himself tortured Father Obilade to death. Sylvie Obilade being the Bruglioni household priest and Paludan's personal confessor, but also a spy. He arranged the ambush in the plaza. Not expecting a bloodbath."

"I see. Convolution in the Brothen tradition. And Paludan Bruglioni isn't a good employer."

"Correct. Don Inigo and I both cautioned him to restrain himself in your case. First, because he needs you desperately. Second, because we consider you more a loan man a pass along, his to do with as he pleases."

"Really?" Now what? He had met Inigo Arniena only in passing. The Don was a wizened little character vain enough to dye his hair black. Yet he enjoyed a joke, even at his own expense. He was less formal and stuffy than Salny Sayag.

Else could see no reason for Don Inigo to extend special protection to a passing rogue he meant to plant on an enemy as part of a larger scheme.

"The Don asked me to see if you won't make that a literal truth."

"You're going to have to be more direct."

"Long ago, when they were boys, Freido Bruglioni, Paludan's father, disrespected Don Draco Arniena in a way that Paludan doesn't know Don Inigo knows about. Don Inigo also knows the Bruglioni consider it a great joke. I'm not privy to the details myself. I do know that Don Draco swore to avenge the insult Don Inigo promised his father on his deathbed that he would finish it. Last summer, when Don Inigo's heart almost betrayed him, he settled on a scheme where the Arniena vote in the Collegium would undercut the Bruglioni at some critical point. Meantime, publicly, Don Inigo remains Paludan's staunch ally."

"I think I begin to see."

"No doubt already being in a similar position on behalf of the Benedocto."

"Not them. Bronte Doneto."

"Who is an extension of the Patriarch, if you ask most people. No matter. The Don doesn't want much from you that you won't do anyway."

"So. This was why it was so easy for Principatй Doneto arrange to slide me in through the Bruglioni back door?"

"Yes."

"What do you want?"

"Any information you can acquire that will give the Don a chance to do the Bruglioni a bigger hurt in the public eye,"

"Bigger?"

"Bigger than backstabbing them in a vote in the Collegium. Best would be to discover something that would make the mob want to tear them apart."

"What a city. Of course. Since my Principatй tells me that you don't expect to reveal yourselves any time soon. Because until Rodrigo Cologni is replaced the Arniena vote isn't crucial."

"The Patriarch will have to move quickly, just to forestall the idea that he might have been behind the murder."

"I thought the murderer was supposed to be a huge blond foreigner. If he wasn't a Bruglioni."

"Either way, somebody killed a whole troop of Brotherhood veterans to get to Rodrigo Cologni. That's a hard sell, Hecht. God Himself wouldn't be interested enough to work that hard."

Else shrugged. "It seems nothing is unlikely here."

"It's just bigger and more complex than what you're used to. I was lost when I first got here. But it's just people being people, only with a lot more enthusiasm. Well, that's settled. Let's get you ready to go."

ELSE WAS AMUSED. HERE HE WAS, ENTERING THE GREAT REARing ugly limestone Bruglioni stronghold through the front gate. Rogoz left him there. "You want me to wait, Hecht?"

"Be a waste of your time, wouldn't it? I can find my way home."

“Take care, then. Some of these Bruglioni are creepy people." Sayag did not mind the Bruglioni sentry overhearing.

"You get used to creepy people."

Rogoz sneered and went away.

Else followed the sentry into the Bruglioni citadel. That man turned him over to a nervous, skinny, short, shaggy little man who told him, "My name is Polo. I'm supposed to assist you as long as you're here. You shouldn't ever forget that I work for Paludan Bruglioni. You'll see him in a minute."

Else considered his surroundings. Seedy described it in one quick, all-encapsulating word. No effort was being made to keep the place up. It felt creepy, as though the last fugitive tendrils of the night had not been harried out of this one corner of Brothe.

"Is the Don a sorcerer?"

Polo squeaked in surprise.

"He's not?"

"No. If you mean Paludan. But that isn't it. Nobody calls him the Don. Much as he'd love that"

"Really? Why not?"

Polo looked around for something lurking in the shadows. "You aren't Brothen, are you?"

"Not even Firaldian. Why?"

"Don is a title of respect. Given only to those who earn it. From here," smacking his chest over his heart. “To the one who leads. By those who follow. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." A similar tradition existed among the tribesmen of Peqaa and other remote regions of the Realm of Truth. Polo meant that the Bruglioni household did not consider Paludan Bruglioni a man who deserved to be called Don. "I do. Do I need to make a special effort with my appearance?"