"Oh." Delari frowned again. "You did. What did I do vith that thing?"

"It supposedly makes you forget it. But could that turn around on you? Could you suddenly remember all about it?" Was that why Gervase Saluda was interested, suddenly?

"I remember, now. I wanted to fix it so you'd keep it with you even when you forget it. Because it would make you seem unworthy of notice. Not invisible, like the rings and cloaks in stories, just somebody nobody remembers seeing."

"That wouldn't be such a good idea. I'm supposed to be the Captain-General."

They discussed the ring several minutes more. Delari opined, "The shock of the explosion is the most likely reason that you're remembering. You should write it all down. Now. So the information is there if you forget it again."

Hecht grunted, thought for a moment. "That might be a good idea."

"Over here."

Time fled.

Osa Stile came to report, "Everything is set, Your Grace. When you're ready to go."

"We'll be a few minutes yet, Armand."

Anna and Principate Delari's granddaughter had reached an accommodation. They came out to meet the arrivals together. It was late. The children and household staff had retired. Anna was not shy about showing affection, though she did seem upset.

Armand and the coachmen got busy carrying the Principate's necessaries inside.

Anna demanded, "Where are your lifeguards, Piper?" So. That was her problem.

"Ah… Oops? I forgot them."

Anna shot a look of appeal at Delari, then glared at Hecht in a way that said there would be no more forgetting.

Principate Delari took his granddaughter aside. They spoke, he heatedly, she slowly and frowning. She bowed her head in submission, departed.

Anna said, "He shouldn't be that hard on her. She lived a terrible life till Grade Drocker found her a few years ago."

"Oh?"

"We talked a lot. I have a whole new appreciation of how good I've had it."

"And?"

"Her mother and her and her whole family were taken by slavers when she was five years old."

Hecht recalled Delari saying the woman's mother had been a slave liberated by Grade Drocker in the Holy Lands. So she had been dragged back into slavery.

Anna said, "The slavers sold them to different buyers. Drocker was big enough in the Brotherhood to use it to look for them. She was the only one he found again. Isn't that awful?"

It was, but that was the way of the world. That story repeated itself every day.

Anna shut up. Principate Delari was approaching. He said, "Piper, join me in the quiet room as soon as you can."

"Your Grace?"

"The room we used during Consent's confirmation."

"Oh. I understand."

"I doubt that sincerely. But do come. Heris will make coffee. Using Ambonypsgan beans."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Don't dally." Delari went off to bark at his catamite and coachmen.

Hecht glanced at Anna. He frowned. She responded with a shrug. She had no clue, either.

Principate Delari said, "I don't want to injure your feelings, Madam Mozilla, but this doesn't concern you. Please join your children."

Hecht was astonished. That bordered on being rude. Was that one of the perquisites of surviving long enough to become an antique? He told Anna, "It's private, dear. Apparently." And, "It's his house."

"Of course."

Principate Delari strolled the bounds of the room, scowling. He reminded Hecht, "The plaster conceals stone from a quarry in the Holy Lands, near where Aaron was born. One tradition says Aaron's father worked in that quarry."

The woman arrived with coffee. Hecht's mouth watered.

Delari mused, "This house has been in the family for ages. Settle somewhere, Heris. And relax."

She served the coffee before seating herself. Overlooking the admonition to relax. She sipped coffee and waited tensely.

Hecht grunted. She seemed oddly familiar when she drank.

"Piper?"

"Nothing, Your Grace. A vagrant recollection that got away before I could get hold of it."

"Ah. About this house, then. As I was about to explain. In the family for ages. Passed down, father to son. The usual. Except that we've all become members of the Collegium."

"How does that work if the clergy can't marry and illegitimate children aren't supposed to inherit?"

"Power and money, Piper. Those always trump the most ironbound rules. This family is always long on the former. They'd rather have us in the Collegium than running around loose. Sorcerers not on the inside cause too many problems. Our member of the Collegium is usually the bull sorcerer of the club. That definitely helps people come up with workarounds."

"Of course." Power and money did shout. Wherever you were.

Delari turned to the woman. "There's a problem, Heris. It has to do with the family and the house."

"Yes?" Evidently this was not what troubled her.

"Reliable witnesses have seen Cloven Februaren coming and going."

"What?"

"A man, so tall, always wears brown. Very much in the image of your father. Before his misfortune in Sonsa." Delari's voice hardened. "He looks how old, Piper?"

"Forty-five. Roughly. Definitely not his real age."

The woman shrugged. "I haven't seen anyone like that. Anyway, isn't Cloven Februaren dead? You said he was already old when you were born."

"You're right. He should be long gone. But someone identified as Cloven Februaren has been coming and going here. We need to look at that. It could be profoundly important."

"Turking or Felske might know something. Or Mrs. Creedon. Most of what happens here goes right past me. I've never visited most of the house."

"We'll correct that shortly. We three will go over it intimately. Piper?"

"It's been a long day. Piled atop yesterday."

"You're a thousand years younger than I am, Piper. But the hunt comes later. Right now, I want to know, what do you remember about your earliest childhood?"

"I was cold a lot." Which was true. Memories of cold were his most vital connection with the time when he was little. "Even then three out of four seasons in Duarnenia were winter. I remember wanting to hurry and grow up so I could have ice crystals in my beard like Papa when he came in out of the cold. Mama used to cry… She'd bury her face in his beard to hide her tears. She was so happy when he came back. When he was gone she spent a lot of time staring at the door. She was terrified that he wouldn't come through it again. And then he didn't. His brother Tindeman did. And we all started bawling before he could say a word.

"That's when I knew there was no way I'd ever be a good enough Chaldarean to follow the trail blazed by Rother Hecht.

"Mama died of a broken heart. The day we buried her my brothers went east to avenge Papa. They made me stay home because I was too young. An hour after they left I took a rusty old Sheard long knife, a leather helmet, and three pounds of cheese and headed south and west. I broke the knife before the day was over, so I had no way to defend myself when they beat me and took my cheese. The helmet saved me. I kept it till they made us prisoners in Plemenza. It was my good-luck talisman. They didn't give it back."

Principate Delari and the woman stared in amazement.

He was amazed himself. He had come near believing every word when he spoke it.

Delari asked, "Any chance your father was mistaken, Heris? Any chance at all?"

"No, Grandfather. He consulted the Instrumentalities themselves."

"I see. You did that quite well, then, Piper," Delari said. "What do you remember about your earliest childhood, Heris?"

The woman looked at Hecht oddly. "It was almost like he said. Mother worried so much. Father was always away somewhere fighting. When he did come home he never stayed long. We cried when he came home because we were happy to see him. Then we cried when he left because we didn't want him to go. Mother always begged him to stay. He wouldn't. He couldn't. The time he spent with us was time stolen from the great work of his life."