Even from her position on the other side of the room, Tahlessa could easily distinguish the look on her son's face as he entered the far door of the solarium. She was seated on a couch beneath a high, ornate window. The window was one of the many that filled the curving south wall of the ladies' solarium, and it presented astonishing views over the plains.

Tahlessa was sitting with her back to it.

Instead, she faced the spacious room, while the other ladies took their mid-day meal, seated at tables, generously arranged around the room's floor. There were more tables, set out for the meal, on the hanging galleries above, beneath the solarium's glass ceiling. The ladies dined quite happily in the shade provided by the giant trees positioned between the tables, and by the fragrant vines that climbed about the room's arching trellises.

Even though she sat in the sun by the window, Tahlessa still felt cold. The scowl on Grifford's face did nothing to alleviate the chill that gripped her insides. The grimace remained as he followed his sister between the tables, his mood palpably grim, until he looked upon the face of his young brother, lying in his cot beside the couch. Then the scowl lightened to nothing, and his frown dissolved. Kralmir gazed back up at his brother, with dark eyes that had that familiar new-born sheen on them like cloud on metal.

"I think he is happy to see you," said Tahlessa.

Grifford looked up at her, and she suddenly felt conscious of her appearance under his gaze. She had seen her reflection in the mirror that morning. Even in the light pouring through the balcony window, her skin had looked pale, and there were still dark hollows under her eyes. Grifford showed no sign of noticing, and looked back down at his new brother, tucked up in his beautifully made cot; a gift from Chief-engineer Garenshik. Tahlia gave the child a cursory glance, then clambered into one of the deep couches facing the window, but Grifford remained, gazing into the cot.

"I saw that scowl on your face when you came in," Tahlessa said, her voice pitched lightly. "It seemed deeper and darker than usual."

"It is nothing, mother."

"He is annoyed about that boy, Tasker," said Tahlia. "We met him in the lift coming up. He and Grifford got into an argument about father again."

"Tahlia!" hissed Grifford.

"About your father?" said Tahlessa, her voice remaining mild, but something had twisted inside her chest.

Grifford stepped away from the cot. Kralmir's eyes followed the movement, and the baby made a questioning gurgle in his throat.

"It is not important."

"Go on," said Tahlessa to her daughter.

"Oh, it was nothing new, but it got my brother riled. You know what he is like."

Tahlessa nodded, frowning.

"Daughter?" she said, after a pause. "Would you be a delight and go and find Kamantha for me. It is time we went to eat."

"But, mother..."

"Please, my dearest, do not argue."

Tahlia scowled, but jumped down from the seat and went in search of her new brother's nursemaid.

When she was gone, Tahlessa turned to Grifford.

"Listen to me, my son, when I ask you to stop your feud with that boy."

"Are you asking me to stand by while he spreads lies about father?"

Tahlessa sighed.

"No. I am asking you to show a little understanding. The actions of Tasker's father were imprudent and selfish, and the blame for our defeat at Wessvall does lie with him, that much is true. There is a great shame here, and I do feel sorry for the boy."

"For Tasker!"

"Of course. To have his father responsible for our defeat at Wessvall, and to have lost his protection and guiding hand. It is something I would not wish on any child, and his mother is little help either."

"His mother?"

"Yes, poor thing. When Tasker's father was banished to the Templars, she was left with nothing, and it is only by the good grace of Council-master Hepskil that she is allowed rooms here in the fortress at all. She rarely leaves them, she accepts few visitors, and her nine years of solitude and the grief of her loss have made her embittered. I fear she may be passing her resentments onto her son. She has always maintained a belief in her husband's innocence."

"But Tasker cannot possibly believe her!"

"No boy would like to think that his father was to blame for a loss as tragic as the one we bore ten years ago. Who can think badly of him for listening to his mother's assurances of his father's innocence?"

Grifford's attention had drifted back to his new brother, whose eyes had closed, his breathing now coming in short strong whispers.

Tahlessa looked over Grifford's bowed head, across the room for any sign of Tahlia.

"Pay no heed to the things Tasker says," she said, turning her attention back to Grifford. "One day when he is grown, he will see the truth in what has happened, and he can do no harm in the meantime."

"Grandfather Kralken once told me that any discourtesy to one's family should be repaid with a sword."

"And your grandfather is dead," was all that Tahlessa replied, unwilling to prompt a deeper discussion that would trigger the memories.

It was too late, though.

The shade of her husband's father, which she had been finding more and more difficult to subdue since the rains had hissed away and the flower grass begun to bloom, was once more in her mind. She thought the memory would fade with each passing year, but it did not. It returned with each new Tourney, as strong and vivid as ever.

She still remembered the smell of the room where the old man had lay dying; the sharpness of blood and the Infirmary's medicinal cleanness mingling with the rich scent of the flowering narcali that climbed outside the open window. The Pride-commander had still worn his armour, fine and polished, but scarred and dented by his punishments in the jousting-ring. His left collar-guard was hideously buckled, and she still remembered how the shard of broken lance protruding from beneath it had trembled with each new labour of his breath.

In his usual obstinacy, the old knight had refused the pain remedies that Doctor Fos had offered, and Tahlessa had marvelled at the strength of his will as he had forced himself to say farewell to his son and his two grandchildren. He had even had words of parting for her, though they had been given as cold in their formality as any that had passed his lips in the fullness of his life.

After that, he had asked to speak to Grifford alone.

She has raised her eyebrows to her husband, but had made no objection. Kralaford had simply nodded at his father's request and bade his family to leave the room. They had waited together in the cloister that surrounded the Infirmary garden. Her husband had stood in brooding silence by the door to the room where his father lay dying, while Tahlia walked a circuit along the top of the low cloister wall, her arms outstretched for balance.

Even over the years, Tahlessa could still hear the man's slowly weakening voice through the room's window, though she had not been able to make out the words that were spoken. Her son's small voice had occasionally given a monosyllabic answer, but nothing more. Five minutes they had waited outside, though to Tahlessa the time had stretched to an eternity, but then she had heard the old knight's voice raised in an urgent whisper. Grifford had voiced a sudden objection, and then another, but the urgent voice had gone on. She remembered standing, looking at her husband in alarm, and he had turned to the door, his hand going to the handle.

It had gone quiet inside the room, but then there had come a choking cough and a cry from Grifford.

Kralaford had turned the handle and pushed open the door to his father's room. She had rushed in after him, her hand going to cover her mouth to mask her alarm at the sight that greeted her.

Her husband's father lay dead on the bed, his head thrown back into the white pillow, his greying beard pointing to the ceiling. A great wash of blood had come from his mouth to stain his armour, and the pillow around his head, crimson. His gauntleted left hand clutched a fistful of bedclothes, and his right gripped the hilt of his sword. Grifford stood by the bed, his face fixed with a look, wide eyed and pale. In his hands he clutched the shard of lance, coated red from its jagged point down to the place where he held it with hands that were shaking and covered in his grandfather's blood.

Kralaford had gone to the bed and run his palm over his father's face, to close the eyes that were staring blankly at the ceiling, before turning to his son. He had placed his hand under his chin to lift his face so he could look into his eyes.

Grifford had given a choking sob.

"He told me to do it!" he had cried, the tears suddenly breaking from his eyes. "He commanded it!"

Her husband had moved his hand down to the new chain, which was hanging about their son's neck. He had taken the demon tooth attached to it between his fingers.

"Your grandfather gave you this?"

Grifford nodded, his eyes not leaving those of his father.

Kralaford had let the plated tooth fall back to rest on his son's chest, and then left the room. Grifford had remained standing beside the bed, the six year old child staring at the body of his grandfather, still clutching the piece of bloody metal that had killed him.

"I cannot find her anywhere!" said Tahlia as she dropped onto the seat beside Grifford, breaking Tahlessa from her memories.

She quickly wiped away the tears that she felt gathering at the corners of her eyes, and hastily composed herself.

Grifford was still standing beside his brother's cot, watching him sleep.

"You will wear your eyes out with looking if you carry on like that," she said hastily. "You seem consumed with your little brother."

"I do not think I have ever seen anything so small and weak."

"Well you were as small as him when you were born; your sister even smaller."

"He needs protection," said Grifford with determination, still not looking up.

Tahlessa smiled down at her two sons, the ghost of their grandfather slowly fading.

"What he needs now is to be taken to my rooms. He will be waking soon and screaming to be fed. Did you use your eyes in your search for Kralmir's nursemaid, daughter?"

"Of course I did, mother!"

"Well it seems you did not use them well enough. Kamantha!" she called across the room.

A young woman looked over from among a group of servants, who were standing talking quietly by the main entrance to the solarium.

"She was not there a minute ago," said Tahlia defensively.

The woman hurried over quickly, her eyes worried.

"Yes, my lady," she said, bobbing a curtsy.

"Take Kralmir back to my quarters."

"Yes, my lady," said Kamantha, moving hastily to the side of the cot.

"Feed him when he wakes."

Kamantha took up Kralmir carefully. She bobbed another quick curtsy and hurried off, her head bowed.

"Come, children," said Tahlessa, once she had watched the woman until she had left the room. "Let us go to eat. I think I may feel strong enough to watch the contests this afternoon."

"Father will be pleased," said Grifford.

They stood and went to the table that had been laid for them, but as Grifford pulled out her chair for her to sit, Tahlessa cast another look towards the door through which her son had been carried.

She gave a deep sigh to try to calm the knot inside her.

Her children did not notice.

Tahlia was pouring herself a glass of watered juice. Grifford had taken his seat beside her, and was sitting, staring at the table in front of him with eyes that had held the same dark look for the last six years.

The Lady Tahlessa forced herself to smile, and sat down.