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The wagon finished its turn and started off at a walking pace. The team would be tired enough by the time they’d retraced the ten or so miles to the castle.

Arhys touched Cattilara’s shoulder, now showing a dark red stain from the slow ooze beneath. “This won’t do.”

“It must, till we get back to Porifors,” said Illvin uneasily. He stretched his arms and hands and hitched his shoulders, as if settling back into a body grown unused to him. He tested his own grip, and frowned.

“I can only hope the garrison hasn’t fallen into an uproar over my disappearance,” said Arhys.

“As soon as we arrive,” said Ista, “we must make another attempt to question Cattilara’s demon. It must know what is afoot in Jokona and, most of all, who dispatched it.” She repeated to Illvin the officer’s tale of the sudden reform of Sordso the Sot.

“How very strange,” mused Illvin. “Sordso never showed any sign of such family feeling before.”

“But—will we be able to question the creature, Royina?” asked Arhys, still staring down at Cattilara. “We had little enough luck the last time.”

Ista shook her head in equal doubt. “I did not have Learned dy Cabon’s advice, before. Nor the assistance of Foix dy Gura. We may be able to set one demon upon the other, to some good effect. Or . . . to some effect. I shall take counsel of the divine when we return.”

“I would take counsel of my brother, while I can,” said Arhys.

“I would take counsel of some food,” said Illvin. “Is there any in this wagon?”

Arhys bade his page search; the boy emerged from rooting among the supplies with a loaf of bread, a sack of leathery dried apricots, and a skin of water. Illvin settled and began conscientiously gnawing, while Arhys detailed the reports from Porifors’s scouts.

“We are missing news from the north road altogether,” Illvin observed as Arhys wound up his rapid account. “I mislike this.”

“Yes. I am most troubled for the two parties that have not yet returned or sent any courier. I was about to send another patrol after them, when my morning duties were so unexpectedly interrupted.” Arhys glanced in exasperation at his unconscious wife. “Or possibly go myself.”

“I beg you will not,” said Illvin, rubbing his shoulder.

“Well . . . no. Perhaps that would not be wise, under the circumstances.” His gaze upon Cattilara grew, if possible, more worried. She looked terribly defenseless, curled up on her side. Without the underlying strain of subterfuge in her face, her striking natural beauty reasserted itself.

He glanced up and managed a brief smile for Ista’s sake. “Do not be alarmed, Royina. Even if some unseen force approaches from that direction, there is little they can do against Porifors. The walls are stout, the garrison loyal, the approaches for siege engines difficult in the extreme, and the fortress stands upon solid rock. It cannot be undermined. Support from Oby would arrive before our assailants had time to finish making camp.”

“If Oby is not itself attacked at the same time,” muttered Illvin.

Arhys glanced away. “I have spoken at length with the temple notary in the past few days, and placed my will in writing under his care. The castle warder has charge of all my other papers. I have appointed you my executor, and joint guardian of little Liviana.”

“Arhys,” said Illvin, his voice drawn with doubt. “I would point out that there is no guarantee that I will get out of this alive either.”

His brother nodded. “Liviana’s grandfather becomes her sole sponsor in that case, and guardian of all her dy Lutez properties. In all events—given the lack of any child between Catti and me—I mean to return Cattilara with her jointure to the guardianship of Lord dy Oby.”

“Cattilara would care as little for my rule as I would care to exert it,” said Illvin. “Thank you from us both.”

Arhys nodded in wry understanding. “If you—if—if you cannot undertake it in Liviana’s name, Porifors’s military command must revert to the provincar of Caribastos, to be assigned to a man he