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Blackgult regarded the ceiling for the briefest of moments, as both Embra and Tshamarra rolled their eyes. "Subtle, Craer, very subt;e," the Lady Silvertree murmured.

Craer shrugged merrily, gave the lornsar a cheery smile as he took his seat, and asked, "What did I miss? Barbed threats? Little gems of glowering menace? Or just a little tongue-fencing?"

Lornsar Ryethrel regarded his newly returned table companion sourly. "A little peace and quiet. My lord."

Hawkril snorted with laughter, and Tshamarra smirked at her platter and said, "He's got you there, Longfingers!"

Craer regarded her haughtily. "That'll be 'Lord Longfingers,' if you don't mind."

"Would it be impolite of me to inquire, as seneschal of this castle, if the Lord Stombridge is, ah, short one chamber knave at this time?" Urbrindur asked.

Craer gave him a bright smile. "No, and no. He has a bit of a headache, and is sleeping it off-comfortably, I trust. There's another man lying beside him who is-or rather was-a. priest of the Serpent. A man who arrived here but two days ago, I understand. He's dead now, and whoever pulls his own knife out of him had best beware poison on its blade. Oh, yes, two of your cortahars need some weapons practice, and someone named Thalas is being far too mercenary in his rental of certain rooms."

"I beg your pardon?" Seneschal Urbrindur asked, in the heavy tones affected by those so scandalized that they're really doing nothing of the kind.

However, on the other side of the uncertainly smiling tersept, Coinmaster Eirevaur smiled, nodded, made a note, and murmured, "Thalas again. Thank you, Lord Delnbone."

Craer gave him a wink, and then addressed the seneschal directly. "No, I'm afraid not."

Urbrindur gave him a baffled but nonetheless disapproving look. "You're afraid, my lord?"

The procurer took a healthy mouthful of boar and sluiced it down his gullet with a swig from the decanter. "I'm afraid I can't grant the pardon you've so energetically begged for, at this time. Still, the Three work in wondrous ways, Seneschal. Perhaps I shall, sometime soon-if you can overcome this regrettable tendency to judge everyone around you. Take folk as you find them-"

"Aye," Hawkril rumbled, "take them for all they've got, is the usual Longfingers manner."

Craer shot his old friend a look that mingled mock pain and shared mirth, and continued, "-and enjoy life all the more. Some wine, perhaps? A timely flagon comes never amiss." He waved the decanter, but Urbrindur shook his head curtly.

"To continue, my Lord Stornbridge," Embra said patiently, "we consider that what's most important for every noble of Aglirta is to take great care to not follow the dark road of ambition favored by some of their more foolish fellows in the past." She sipped daintily at her wine, and added, "There's no need for anyone to go whelming armies beyond what's needed to patrol his own territory, or to conspire with others up and down the Vale in petty little alliances that in the end will only be manipulated by the Serpent-worshippers or another Bloodblade desiring to snatch the throne."

Blackgult nodded. "If every noble of the Vale kept loyal to the throne, and bought peace with wise decisions, ready swords, fair justice, and vigilant patrols, Aglirta would soon know greatness again, and the peace would bring prosperity to all."

"Your diligence on the road this day may have been misplaced, but it speaks well for your regard for your own people, and for all Aglirta," Embra added. "Though this may surprise you, we are thus far well pleased with you, Tersept of Stornbridge."

The Lord of Stornbridge visibly sat straighter and taller, looking delighted. Craer saluted him with the decanter, and then bounded to his feet and skipped around the table. Chamber knaves started forward uncertainly to intercept him, but the procurer was already refilling the tersept's goblet with the bubbling words, "That's right! Celebrate! A most excellent wine, this. You must tell us more of life here in Stornbridge-the