"I have no doubt at all that you mean what you say, and that you could probably back it up, too. But why all the fuss? I wasn't kidding before, when I told you by the cistern that I could delight you. No woman yet has shied away from me, once she's felt my touch. I doubt you'll be any different, if you'll just let down your guard and see what you're missing.''

"You unbelievable, smug bastard!" Emriana said, shaking her head in scorn. "You think you can turn me to your side just by your touch? How arrogant can one man be?"

Anger flashed in Denrick's eyes, then.

"Watch your tongue, Em. I won't tolerate that kind of attitude from my wife."

Emriana's jaw dropped.

"Your wife! Do you honestly think this marriage is going to happen? You're delusional. My grandmother is going to put a stop to this as soon as she-"

"Your grandmother is on the verge of falling into her grave," Denrick interrupted. "She's in no condition to do anything about any of this. Now quit stalling, Emriana, and accept the fact that you are going to be my wife, and you are going to serve me dutifully, in any capacity I wish. The sooner you get used to that idea, the better off you'll be."

Emriana snarled, lunging left and darting back to the right, running as fast as she could for the door.

She almost made it, too, but Denrick was just a half-step faster. He dived for her and got a hand in her dress-the damned dress!-and tripped her up enough that she went sprawling. She scrambled desperately forward, opening her mouth to scream for help, but then someone was standing in the doorway. As Denrick grabbed at her and sat on her to keep her still, Emriana craned her neck, hoping it was Vambran. Instead, it was a Matrell house guard, and he was leering down at what was taking place.

"Help me," Emriana pleaded at the man, expecting him to come to her rescue.

Surely, no matter what Uncle Dregaul might be planning, it didn't include her being ravaged against her will.

"So?" the guard asked, smiling unpleasantly. "You finally figured out a way to keep her from sneaking off, huh?"

Denrick chuckled as he began to wrap something tightly around Emriana's wrists, tying them together behind her back.

Bartimus sat quietly in the corner to one side of Grozier Talricci's chair. His employer and the other heads of the three Houses were gathered together in an inner room, a study with a beautiful atrium along one side, discussing some of the business details of the impending merger. The wizard wasn't really listening closely, for the details were not important to him. Nor, for that matter, was any of that his responsibility. He had been brought there solely to keep an eye on everyone else, while Grozier concentrated on the financial aspects.

Bartimus studied each of the other three people in turn, observing their mannerisms, their speech, and the looks in their eyes, for he knew that it would be through those things that he could determine if any of them were nervous or unsure about what was taking place. Those telltale signs were the clues he was responsible for spotting, so that he could warn his employer if there were any potential surprises ahead.

Thus far, Anista Pharaboldi seemed perfectly at ease, but Dregaul Matrell was agitated over the attack on his mother. Bartimus would have thought that the man would have been pleased to see the matriarch of the household, a potential thorn in their sides, eliminated, but instead, the man seemed to be concerned about it all.

Bartimus couldn't say he blamed Dregaul. The whole affair of the servant girl's pregnancy and the ensuing chaos had left everyone on edge. Grozier certainly hadn't wanted to take such extreme measures to deal with the unfortunate discovery by Vambran Matrell of the servant's elimination, but the persistent mercenary officer had left them with little choice. It was even more unfortunate that Vambran was a member of one of the Houses involved, as that created still more problems. Indeed, Bartimus didn't really consider the whole affair settled. Vambran would have to be once and for all permanently removed from the middle of things before the issue was closed.

In the meantime, though, Grozier and the other two needed to move forward on the facets of the deal that really mattered. They had to begin planning how to invest their pooled resources, to get the army they were going to buy early enough in the season that they could get a full summer campaign out of it. Any mercenary bands they still employed in the fall would continue to be able to conduct the business of warfare, of course, but it was a much dicier proposition then. The weather was less likely to cooperate, and cash flow would certainly be a larger problem, as most of the summer trade boom would be past them. There was no more time to delay getting the merger going, regardless of the potential problems looming on the periphery.

The wizard realized he was letting his mind wander and he wasn't watching Grozier's counterparts as well as he should be. He mentally smacked himself for getting distracted and refocused. Dregaul was arguing some point about profit splits, and how much should be reinvested back into the effort, while Anista was suggesting that they diversify those earnings into some war-related businesses that could, in turn, cut costs down the road. Grozier was shaking his head at both of them, trying to get them to understand that there would probably not be much revenue in the first two years.

"The costs of conducting the conquest are going to increase as time goes by," the head of House Talricci explained. "You have to take into account the lengthening of supply lines."

"Ah," Anista said, frowning.

"Why?" Dregaul demanded, seeming to grow upset at that notion. "What drives the cost up?"

Grozier sighed and said, "Because, as I explained before, it gets longer. Either that, or we build a way-station at some point closer to the front and deliver the supplies there ourselves."

"Yes, let's plan to do that," Dregaul said, nodding. "Between us, we have the subsidiaries needed to get that done less expensively, anyway, which of course puts more funds back into our war chest."

"Remember, though," Grozier said, "that a full waystation could be sacked or taken over by the enemy. If that happens, it sets us farther back than if we just pony up the extra coin for lengthening supply lines."

"Hmm, good point," Dregaul said, frowning again.

"That doesn't leave us very much play in the numbers, then," Anista Pharaboldi said, scribbling something on a piece of parchment in front of her. "We'll be running a shortfall for at least-"

The door to the room slammed open, and Hetta Matrell strode inside. The look on her face told Bartimus she was ready to chew through steel, she was so angry. The other three individuals in the room jumped slightly at the sound of the door banging against the wall, Dregaul most of all. Bartimus, however, subtly slipped a hand in his pocket, ready to wield a little magic in his employer's defense, should it come to that.

"Dregaul Matrell," the elderly woman said, "this travesty of a business decision you've made has seen its last day."

Bartimus could see then that she was accompanied by another woman whom the wizard did not know, as well as two house guards.

"Mother, what are you doing here?" Dregaul demanded, turning in his chair, a concerned look on his face. "You should be resting."

"I have no intention of resting while my son is bringing my House down around all of our ears," the elderly woman said. "I would think, after all these years, that you would have figured out by now that I can tell when you're up to something. Did you really think I would approve of such shaky business tactics? Worse yet, did you really think I would allow you to mortgage our finances to their limit so that you could start a war?"