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\chapter{Trying}\label{chapter-37-trying}}



\epigraph{``A man should beware of praying for justice when he truly wants
vindication. He might just get what he asked for, and it is never a
pretty thing when we all get exactly what we deserve.''}{King Pater of Callow, the Unheeding}



There were too many parts in motion for me to keep track of them all,
and I did not like the feeling in the slightest.

Late in the night Lord Yannu Marave arrived in the Arsenal, though given
the hour I elected not to reach out to him until morning. Now that the
representative for the Dominion was there, the right amount of high
officer for the Grand Alliance had gathered and the trials could begin.
A round of messengers sent to all involved saw me get answers as I broke
my fast with Vivienne just before Morning Bell, the two of us catching
up over warm pastries by Hakram's bedside. The necessary official talk
we'd gotten out of the way the day before, at least when it came to
getting me up to speed about all she'd been up to, so we'd allowed
ourselves the luxury of an hour or two for ourselves. It ended up being
less than that, inevitably, as the last messages came while she was on
the tail end of a rant about living so close to the seat of Proceran
power.

``If I receive another subtle yet suggestive poem from a secret admirer,
I'm going to start setting the Jacks after them,'' Vivienne told me, at
least halfway seriously. ``I'm actually pretty sure two of them actually
hired the same poet to write for them because the rhymes were
\emph{suspiciously} similar.''

I answered with an amused snort.

``Any fish work hooking in there?'' I teased.

``Please,'' she dismissed. ``Like taking a Proceran to bed wouldn't be
horrible politics even if those trying their hands weren't either
ambitious fools or spies.''

``Terrible politics,'' I agreed, without the faintest hint of irony.

I'd been taught by some \emph{very} fine liars, after all. And it had
truly been that to dally with Frederic, admittedly. Terrible, delightful
politics that did that delicious thing with their hips. I seemed to have
gotten away with it, though, so I'd not get greedy and ruin it by
dallying again even if the thought was occasionally tempting. A knock at
the door was followed by another messenger being allowed in, passing
along a written response. Hanno had been the last to answer, not by lack
of punctuality but by being the hardest to find. His agreement to the
first trial -- the Hunted Magician's -- being held half past Noon Bell
was dropped by Cordelia's impressively prompt one and the Lord of
Malaga's slightly slower answer.

``So?'' Vivienne asked. ``Are we starting today?''

``This afternoon,'' I replied. ``All agreed.''

In the wake of wrapping this up, I'd spring on them the Concocter's own
punishment. None of this was supporting Hasenbach outright, but prompt
and severe consequences for my Named who'd stepped out of line ought to
make it clear the reins were still being held. As long as the trials for
Above's didn't end up spoiling the brew, anyway. The Mirror Knight had
not tried to escape imprisonment and the Severance was back under seal,
but my polite inquiries had made it clear that Hanno did not see a trial
as something to discuss in advance. I'd expected as much, honestly,
given that I was dealing with the Sword of Judgement. I still didn't
like that I'd be going in blind there, but there wasn't really anything
I could do there -- under the Terms this was the White Knight's show,
and no trespass of mine there would go without swift and severe answer.

``Yannu Marave's considered a pragmatist by his countrymen,'' my
dark-haired heiress said. ``Not aggressive by nature, though he'll be
extremely thorough in answering slights. So long as you don't end up
touching the Dominion's bottom line, though, I don't see him being
trouble.''

Hasenbach had intimated as much, but it was good to hear the same talk
coming from a source I could trust wholeheartedly.

``The crowns do matter,'' I admitted, ``but it's the White Knight
that'll be the keystone.''

The Terms were, ultimately, a treaty between Named. The nations that'd
signed on did so mostly as guarantors of rights and privileges, not
legal authorities -- Procer, Callow and Levant all had a seat in the
tribunals but in the end it was the White Knight and the Black Queen
that passed sentences. It'd have a lot more of an impact if Hanno had
issues with my rulings than if nation did.

``True as that is,'' Vivienne calmly said, ``what is left to do now,
save pulling the trigger?''

I'd never won much arguing with the truth, so I let the conversation end
on that.

---

Putting the staff together for this hadn't been all that difficult,
since the members of the Arsenal could serve as a `neutral' entity to
draw people from. Not the Named, of course, but the scholars and mages
and priests. I'd decided to avoid any trouble by drawing on scholars for
the scribing work, and from Vivienne's own staff for the rest. The
ever-useful Lady Henrietta Morley -- these days no mere landless
aristocrat but instead Viv's own private secretary -- was recommended to
me as someone capable of handling details and timing, so I put her in
charge of handling transcripts and evidence.

For all that this was a formal trial under the Terms, it appeared
somewhat haphazard at first glance. At the high table the tribunal sat,
with Vivienne representing Callow and the rest as expected: Cordelia
Hasenbach for Procer, Yannu Marave for Levant and Hanno for the heroes.
They'd all been provided with a list of the accusations laid at the
Hunted Magician's feet earlier today, which weren't actually all that
numerous. `Aid to an enemy of the Grand Alliance' on one count, for
having cooperated with the Bard against the Arsenal, then one count of
`unprovoked assault on allies' for the gas canisters he'd opened in the
Stacks and one count of `accessory to attempted murder' for the
illusions he'd woven when attempting to help the Red Axe get Frederic
killed.

I'd spoken with the Concocter, who would have had a right to lodge a
complain considering the gas in those canisters had been her work in the
first place, but she'd declined to pursue the matter. Through me,
anyway. No doubt she'd be making a deal of her own with the Magician
without my being involved. Of those charges the `aid to an enemy' was
the most severe, the deceptively mild wording mostly a result of it not
being possible to call it treason when there were so many different
crowns and jurisdictions involved. It was still considered just as
severe, though, and it'd be the driving force behind the harshest part
of his sentence.

The Hunted Magician had come dressed soberly but smartly, having put on
an embroidered pale green vest over a white long-sleeved shirt and loose
dark trousers. Like most the times I'd seen him, he looked more like a
wealthy nobleman in casual clothes than any sort of mage. It was all
well-cut without being ostentatious, which was halfway clever of him: it
was a shallow thing, but people tended to favour those who looked well.
Look too rich, though, and pretty or not that appreciation tended to
turn to antipathy with some. He'd straddled the line well, which only
had me further convinced that he was highborn and not from a lesser
line. In Procer in particular, the difference between those who dressed
well but subtly and those who were garish with their wealth was one of
the ways to tell apart those whose `nobility' was an old thing, often
preceding the Principate itself, from those who'd risen to higher
station more recently by sword or coin.

I'd already been on my feet when the Hunted Magician had been escorted
in, made to stand on bare stone as behind a set of wards and guards the
assembled high officers of the Grand Alliance sat and watched him
approach, so I only needed to limp a bit before I stood by his side. The
man turned dark eyes on me, face blank, and I leaned in a little closer.

``Keep your head,'' I murmured. ``They're not out to get you but no one
here wants you to wiggle out either, least of all me, so take your lumps
and walk away.''

``I helped your man,'' the Magician murmured back. ``Do not forget it.''

``I forget little, Hunted Magician,'' I coldly replied. ``And never aid
given to my enemies. Best you don't forget that either, yes?''

He'd been well-taught enough not to grimace at the reminder that even
the help he'd given Masego when it came to Quartered Seasons hardly made
up for the hand he'd had in the storm that'd swept over the Arsenal. A
great deal could have been mitigated, if he'd not decided it would be
the height of cleverness to make a deal with the Wandering Bard. Mind
you, if Tariq hadn't insisted we hedge our bets when it came to her such
a deal might have smelled of the noose enough the Magician wouldn't have
dared. Past a certain point, fault became such a many-faceted thing
there was little practical point in pondering it. I turned away from my
charged and faced the tribunal. Cordelia was unreadable, Hanno lightly
frowning and Yannu Marave looked already bored. Vivienne, clever thing
that she was, was spending more time looking at the other members of the
tribunal than anything else.

``I'll not trouble you with an excess off ceremony,'' I said. ``You've
all already been made aware of the breaches of the Terms the Hunted
Magician has been accused of. For the sake of formality, I will list
them once more: aid to an enemy of the Grand Alliance, unprovoked
assault on allies and accessory to attempted murder. As representative
for the villains under the Terms, these are the charges I will lay
against him. Do any of you intend to present further charges, or contest
those I have laid down?''

``I do not,'' the First Prince calmly said.

``No,'' the Lord of Alava bluntly said.

Vivienne silently shook her head, but like me her eyes were on the White
Knight.

``Yes,'' the White Knight said.

My fingers clenched around the length of dead yew in my hand.

``Elaborate, White Knight,'' I said.

``Your charge of `accessory to attempted murder' would attaint the Red
Axe of said attempted murder before she's stood trial of her own,''
Hanno said.

Which was, I grimly though, actually a good point. Sure any idiot could
tell I was right to call it that -- there wasn't a lot of room for
interpretation in the act of hacking a sword at Frederic's neck -- but
the Terms functioned because I passed judgement for villains and Hanno
for the heroes. Neither of us could or should trespass beyond that
boundary.

``I'll not withdraw the charge,'' I said, ``but I would offer assurances
that I would not consider the Red Axe in away attainted by it.''

``Callow agrees with such a compromise,'' Vivienne calmly said.

It was a cheap trick, agreeing with me quickly to put the pressure on
others, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be effective.

``Levant agrees as well,'' Lord Yannu dismissed.

Cordelia's cool blue eyes were slightest bit narrowed in thought, but
she did not hesitate as soon as she was satisfied she'd parsed out the
implications.

``The Principate is in agreement,'' she flatly stated.

Eyes went to Hanno, whose frown has deepened ever so slightly.

``I am wary of influencing opinion in another trial even with such a
compromise,'' the White Knight said. ``Yet I can recognize that opinion
is not bound to be settled by law, and so it should not be objected to
on such grounds. Under such an assurance, I withdraw my objection.''

Well, first hurdle passed. From there, it was mostly a matter of
presenting to the tribunal what I was making my own judgement on. By
Henrietta Morley's practiced hand my witnesses were brought in one after
the other, those made to present in person at least. Unprovoked assault
was the easiest to prove, so I started with that: two scholars who'd
been made unconscious by the gas, a healer to certify none of those
affected had any lasting consequences -- which would have made it more
than mere unprovoked assault -- and the Magician confessed to the theft
of the canisters and their use when pressed.

``If the canisters were stolen, why is theft not being laid as a
charge?'' the First Prince asked. ``I believe those were property of the
Principate, as well.''

The Concocter had made those as a possible tool for Cordelia to quell
riots bloodlessly, apparently, and created them using Proceran coin. But
I'd known about this in advance and prepared for it.

``The canisters remained the Concocter's property so long as they were
in the Arsenal, and she's declined to lodge any grievances,'' I said.
``Lady Morley?''

The noblewoman had a signed statement by said Concocter backing up my
words brought forward, and after it was made clear that the loss of the
canisters and their content would be folded into the repair budget for
the Arsenal after the raid instead of forcing Procer to pay for the same
goods twice she had no further objection. We moved on to the slightly
trickier one, accessory to attempted murder. Two officers -- one
Levantine and one Callowan -- were brought to describe the illusion
woven, which had been of the Prince of Brus acting and speaking
aggressively. Marave spoke up for the first time, just to make sure his
countrymen would face no retribution for baring steel on a prince of the
blood, and lost interest as soon as he was reassured this was the case.

My case for this was weaker, and in truth some would have folded it into
`aid to an enemy of the Grand Alliance', but I was actually doing the
Magician a favour here. By making him part of someone else's attempted
murder, in this case the Red Axe's, I was preventing him from being
accused of having tried the same thing only on the Bard's behalf. Trying
to get a prince of the blood -- and hero -- killed for the Intercessor
would warrant \emph{steep} consequences, while helping a heroine in her
own fumbled attempt was not quite so grave. He wasn't a fool, and he
obviously knew the Terms in and out, it was almost eagerly that the
Hunted Magician confessed to an act I had only moderate proof of him
having carried out. After Yannu Marave watching out for his fellow
Levantines I got no interruption, and we swiftly went on to the last of
the charges.

``First, I want to remind you that even at this very moment the
Wandering Bard has yet to be designated an enemy of the Grand
Alliance,'' I said. ``It was not a breach of the Terms to have dealings
with her when the Hunted Magician did. What was a breach, however, was
how information like the location and inner dealings of the Arsenal -- a
secret location -- were revealed to an outsider. It was when the Bard
then masterminded an assault here that the Magician's actions became
`aid to an enemy'. In this light, it seems appropriate to water my
wine.''

``Traitors should only know one kind of mercy,'' Yannu Marave replied.

Most people in the room knew enough about the Dominion that he didn't
have to slide a finger across his throat to actually spell out what he
meant. That he didn't bother to do it anyway made him a fairly subtle
man, by Levantine standards.

``It is not appropriate to speak of the sentencing before the trial is
finished,'' the White Knight cut in, tone even. ``Is there a reason for
it, Black Queen?''

``Informing deliberation is part of her responsibilities as
representative for Below's champions,'' Vivienne coolly replied.
``Failing in \emph{that} duty would truly be inappropriate, unlike what
you're currently fretting about.''

The Lord of Alava let out a chuckle, looking more interested than he'd
been in the better part of an hour.

``Fighting words,'' he approvingly said.

I cleared my throat.

``I spoke to this to make clear that I believe the Hunted Magician's
breach of the Terms was done not out of malice but out of ignorance and
incompetence,'' I said.

The man stiffened behind me but had enough sense not to argue my words.

``Indeed?'' the First Prince of Procer said, eyebrow quirking.

I suspected that, after the last few weeks, Cordelia was rather enjoying
watching one of we troublesome Named squirm in discomfort.

``Absolutely,'' I told her. ``The Magician's fault came as a result of
wildly overestimating himself, when in fact his arrogance and simplicity
allowed a genuinely malicious entity to make use of him as a tool.''

The Magician twitched at my words but kept his mouth shut. Maybe he
wasn't entirely beyond salvaging, then. Evidence over his conspiracy
with the Bard was sparse as wheat fields in the Hungering Sands, but
that was seen to by the simple magic of having told him in advance that
if he took his fucking lumps and confessed I wouldn't need to treat him
as a liability. Through gritted teeth, the Proceran confessed to having
had dealings with the Bard. He left out as much as he could, as I'd
expected, but even the bare bones were damning enough. His saving grace
here would be that he hadn't actually killed anyone here directly, which
hadn't actually been all that difficult to prove: all our dead and
wounded were accounted for, the reasons for their state more or less
clear. His responsibility there was indirect, which left me some
wiggling room even with the gravity of the aid charge.

I`d finished making my case, so without further ado I asked the tribunal
if they wanted to deliberate before recommendations were made to me.
Hanno did, but no one else was in favour so he conceded and we went on
straight to the tribunal offering its recommendations.

``I trust in the judgement of the Black Queen,'' Cordelia said, opening
the game with a measured smile, ``and I expect that her sentencing will
be fitting.''

Easier to say, I supposed, when you already knew what that sentence was.
Still, she'd left herself some room to manoeuvre just in case what I'd
told her I'd pass as a sentence wasn't what I'd actually say now.

``We should be fitting his head for a pike,'' Lord Yannu said. ``But if
he's just an idiot, as you say, it'd be a waste. Levant will settle for
flesh instead of a skull, Black Queen.''

I nodded. Not exactly a push for moderation, that, but it was signaling
that the Dominion would be satisfied so long as the punishment stung.
The details of that punishment, though, they hardly cared about.
Vivienne did not speak, since it would have been quite the empty game if
she'd pretended she had the right to speak with Callow over me, so it
was Hanno that spoke next -- but only after a long silence spent
carefully choosing his words.

``There must be visible consequence to aiding a common enemy,'' the
White Knight eventually said. ``And given that the breaches seems to
have been committed on personal grounds, the consequences should be
personal as well.''

Mhm. He'd been careful not to actually suggest a sentence -- knowing
that whether I then followed his suggestion or ignored it there'd still
be trouble from some quarters -- but it was clear he wanted a few
metaphorical fingers broken. Nothing permanent, I meant, but at the very
least lasting pain. The tribunal would have the right to comment once
more once I'd offered the `draft' of my sentence, and I suspected he was
keeping his comments limited until we got there. Nothing I'd heard now
went against what I'd planned, so it was a simple thing from there: I
simply shared the sentence I'd already told Hasenbach I planned to hand
down. Loss of the right to refuse assignments, then a fine equivalent to
the sum of the damages done to the Arsenal repeated for every signatory
member. Pensions for the families of the dead got a grunt of approval
from Lord Marave, but otherwise he seemed skeptical of the punishment
until I specified the fine could be repaid in work.

The prospect of Levant having access to a highly-skilled Named enchanter
brightened his eyes, especially considering that with the established
debt there wouldn't be a need to \emph{pay} that enchanter.

The Hunted Magician himself looked appalled, at first, but as the
initial surprise passed he looked thoughtful. He'd figured out the
advantages for him, then -- ties to three crowns, and good reason for
each to ensure he stayed alive after the Truce and Terms ended and the
Accords replaced them. Satisfied he wouldn't be a stick in my wheel
going forward, I returned my attention to the tribunal. The First
Prince, content I had kept to my word, gave her seal of approval
promptly. The Lord of Alava was not far behind, and mostly symbolically
Vivienne agreed for Callow. The last to speak was once more Hanno, and
he was studying the Hunted Magician closely.

``It is a measured punishment,'' the White Knight said, ``but it lacks
consequence.''

My brow rose. I'd been pretty severe already, so I wasn't exactly
inclined to bite there.

``Coin is coin,'' Hanno said. ``But such a failing should not be kept
under wraps. Let his breaches be made known to all Named. Let sunlight
burn out the rot, so that something wiser might replace it.''

Mhm. Well, it'd be a humiliation for the Magician but it wasn't like the
specifics of the assault on the Arsenal were going to stay secret
forever. He couldn't lose respect the heroes already didn't give him,
and my own lot would be more inclined to mock a failed plot that condemn
it on moral grounds. I could actually kind of see what Hanno was going
for, there: if the Named under the Terms became a community, then
reputation would start being worth a lot more more. It'd become
something worth taking small losses to preserve, if it was actually
useful, and serve as an incentive to keep one's word. It was worth
encouraging, and not unreasonable to ask.

``Agreed,'' I said. ``The breaches and sentence will be made known to
all Named under the Terms, if not the details of the trial.''

He nodded in thanks, and another round of consultations got me the
unanimous seal of approval from the tribunal that I did not need but had
definitely wanted. This had, to my surprise, actually gone pretty well.
The Concocter's own punishment wouldn't require a trial like this, but
I'd wait until later to make it known to the high officers seated in the
room -- there was no need to muddle the waters by doing too much at
once. A semi-formal occasion sometime this week would do just as well,
with an opportunity to voice issues should there be any. This wasn't
like hitting a tavern with friends, so when the business was done we all
parted ways after the proper courtesies were offered. I'd intended on
thanking the staff I'd borrowed personally, including Vivienne's own,
but the White Knight lingered long enough to catch my eye so I passed
that duty along to Vivs and accepted the implied invitation to go on a
walk.

Considering Hanno had made it clear he wasn't going to be discussing the
trials in advance, I was pretty curious about what it was he actually
wanted. I was doing a lot of limping in hallways with important people
these days, I mused, to discuss all sorts of concerns. I was going to
have to see about getting some of this done seated, or else I'd need to
arrange for more of the brew that made my leg sufferable without drawing
on Night.

``Your leg is paining you,'' Hanno said, eyes narrowing as he studied
me.

Not the start I'd expected, but true enough.

``That's what legs do,'' I dismissed.

``I will refrain from small talk,'' the White Knight told me. ``We can
slow, if you prefer.''

``Thought you said we wouldn't be doing small talk,'' I grunted back.

I'd never learned to take pity all that well, even when it was kindly
meant, and I was starting to feel to old to try. The dark-skinned hero
didn't even blink at my bite. I supposed he was used to it, by now.

``The First Prince has approached me several times now,'' Hanno said.
``She has several intentions, but foremost among them is securing
agreement for the Red Axe being tried under Proceran law instead of the
Terms.''

I didn't bother to fake surprise. Even odds he'd be able to tell even if
I did, and we were largely on the same side besides.

``I've heard the speech as well,'' I said, then after mulling it over
threw him a bone, ``from both her and the Kingfisher Prince.''

The White Knight did not look all that surprised, but he nodded in
thanks anyway. Yeah, I wasn't surprised that the First Prince hadn't
tried to win him over through Frederic. The Kingfisher Prince was his
subordinate, in a sense, and it would have tripped a lot of those
Proceran unspoken law to bring attention so clumsily to the divided
loyalties of Prince Frederic of Brus.

``I would not impugn your character,'' Hanno delicately said, ``yet I
imagine a diplomat of Cordelia Hasenbach's skill would have not prepared
an offer easy to refuse.''

I decided to be amused instead of insulted, after a beat. He was asking
whether or not I'd been bought by whatever it was Hasenbach had offered
me for my agreement, in this case Procer's seal of approval on the
Liesse Accords as they currently stood. Hanno had been right in both
suspecting an offer would be made to me and that it'd be a very tempting
one, so I'd forgive him on account of that and the delicacy of inquiry.

``I didn't bite,'' I bluntly told him. ``My priorities haven't shifted,
White Knight. First is winning this war, second is establishing the
Liesse Accords. Most everything else is noise.''

Not entirely true, since my neck would bend some when it came to the
preservation of Callow, but in essence I stood by my words. I'd rather
fight this war in Procer now, even if it got ruinous to my kingdom's
treasury, than on Callowan borders in a decade with fewer allies and
resources to call on. It wasn't going to make me popular, but I could
live with that: there was a reason my abdication was set in stone.

``I believed this would be the case,'' Hanno admitted, ``but I had to
ask. The intensity of Procer's overtures over this worries me. It smells
of desperation, and despair makes for a poor councillor.''

``She has reason to be worried,'' I admitted. ``We both had traitors,
White. If it'd been only my lot she might have been able to write it off
as Below's usual perfidy, but yours have arguably been making more
trouble with her. Add to that the three fingers calling the Mirror
Knight to heel cost you, and it doesn't paint a pretty picture. We're
not looking all that reliable.''

And, in an ironic twist, for once it was the \emph{heroes} who were
looking like the problem child. Between killing villains, bleeding
princes and dabbling in coups, it had to be said that Above's champions
had not come out of the last month looking pristine. My lot looked
better in comparison, amusingly enough, but much as it pained me to
admit it that might not necessarily be a good thing. Villains weren't
the ones bringing the trust to the table, when it came to nations
backing the Terms. A risk had been taking on Below's folk in large part
because I was riding herd of them and I'd shown a lot of goodwill to the
leaders of Levant and Procer. That and I'd established early on that I
was perfectly willing to kill villains if they stepped out of line. In
the end, though, it was the heroes that brought trustworthiness to the
Truce and Terms. It was their reputations, their record, that justified
all the twists and turns and compromises that were being had to keep
Named mustered and pointed at Keter.

If they were no longer trusted, we had a problem.

``I have worries myself,'' Hanno frankly replied. ``Most urgent among
them the First Prince keeping the remains of one of the Seraphim. Even
were she not attempting to make some sort of sordid weapon out of it, I
would be troubled: such a thing is \emph{not} to be trifled with.''

I grimaced. Glad as I was that the White Knight shared my misgivings
there, there were risks to making common front. We were already refusing
Hasenbach over the Red Axe, and then we'd be trying to pry what she
probably saw as her weapon of last resort from her hands. I was pretty
sure Levant could be convinced to back us over this, through Tariq if
nothing else, but I was wary of going through with this. Like Hanno had
said, Procer was starting to smell of desperation. I'd heard in
Frederic's voice and seen it on Hasenbach's face, so I was wary of
pushing the Principate when it already felt cornered.

People did \emph{stupid} things, when they felt cornered.

The hardest lesson I'd learned since putting on the fancy hat and eating
a season had been that just because you could win a fight didn't mean
you should be fighting it. There was already too much fighting going on
among people who should all be on the same side, and it was like the
assault on the Arsenal had shone down a light on every fracture that lay
at the heart if the Grand Alliance. They were growing bigger, I could
feel it, and yet caution was stilling my hand: a hasty move, now, could
do untold damage. \emph{And yet waiting too long will do just the same},
I thought. We needed to finish those trial as soon as possible, then tie
up Mercantis and the Gigantes. Gods, all this trouble and we'd yet to
even begin the godsdamned war council for the actual fucking war we were
fighting.

``Give her time,'' I said. ``She's a pragmatic creature, there's only so
many bridges she'll be willing to burn over this.''

``It will have to be addressed before our time at the Arsenal ends,''
Hanno said.

``Agreed,'' I reluctantly said, then cast him a dark look. ``And you
need to get your house in order, quick, before we lost more trust. I
doubt Procer will try to outright axe the Terms, but there's lesser
measures it can take. They could restrict access to cities, assign
escorts -- Hells they could just begin funding Named on their good side
and \emph{only} them. This isn't a flip of the coin, White Knight, they
have more than two options.''

Poor choice of words there, I realized a heartbeat later with a wince,
but he did not comment on it.

``Then the Mirror Knight can stand trial tomorrow,'' Hanno offered
instead.

``Good,'' I nodded. ``Once that's out of the way, we can sit down with
the First Prince and find a way to settle the trouble over the Red
Axe.''

``I will not discuss sentencing, Black Queen,'' the dark-eyed man flatly
said. ``I have already told you this.''

Gods save me from heroes, all prickly as cats and half as sensible.

``Then don't,'' I sharply said. ``Talk about how we arrange this so she
doesn't have to deal with a revolt in the Highest Assembly, something
that we \emph{cannot afford}. I'm not great admirer of her princes,
White, but your girl cut a prince of the blood that was trying to
protect her from harm. They're right to be on pins and needles about it:
nobody wants a young Regicide walking around, only this one protected by
treaty. I won't argue to throw her to the wolves, we have to clean our
own houses, but we have to give them \emph{something}.''

The White Knight considered me for a long moment.

``I do not see what we can, Black,'' he finally said.

``Then pray, hero,'' I said, baring my teeth. ``And I'll see what I can
get done down in the mud.''