Before today, Hanadan would have been supremely gratified to have Priar appear before him as flustered as he was now, but this eventual victory felt hollow.

"Knocked you out," he repeated slowly. "By himself."

The guard nodded darkly, the angry-looking bruise on his cheek standing out against the rest of his pale, drawn face.

Hanadan pursed his lips and tried to meet the man's eyes. Famous fighter, his father had been. Against the straw-filled dummy of the Academy training grounds, he might have even won half the times.

Naturally, Priar couldn't bring himself to meet Hanadan's stare and Hanadan couldn't make himself feel sorry for what he had put his father's guards through. The fog had really been the only option, an expensive investment he'd seen fit to make some months back, in case of an emergency. And, lo and behold, preparation actually came through.

It had taken no more than ten minutes for the entire grounds of the Jebril estate to be engulfed in a milky vapor, obscuring one's vision just enough to allow two men and a corpse to sneak around unbothered by witnesses. Securing his father hadn't proved much of a hassle either, since the fog immediately surrounding Heddom Jebril's house also boasted some crucial additions, the kind that knocked a man out cold. So it must have been the floor that delivered that painful blow to Priar's face, though of course he couldn't admit to it.

"Did you see him?" inquired Hanadan. "Or anybody else?"

"N-no. It got blurry all of a sudden."

Hanadan sighed.

"Has it occurred to you that you might have been drugged?"

Priar stared at him in astonishment, as if he'd never entertained that possibility.

"His travel cloak, his medication?" pressed Hanadan.

"All gone."

"His lucky charms?"

"All of them taken. It was last winter all over again."

"Except that he didn't make such a nuisance of himself back then," muttered Hanadan.

"I have a family."

Hanadan scowled at the trembling man and once again wondered at his father's reasons for employing him. If this was how he and the rest of his bodyguards conducted themselves under pressure, how was it that his father could even sleep at night?

"For Attira's sake, man," he thundered, "this isn't about you!"

Last winter had been Heddom's little experiment, intent on uncovering the blind spots of his guard staff across the entire estate. No doubt several plots had been uprooted by the subsequent revelations and additions to the guards' routine, but no system was infallible. It was then that Hanadan had had the fog dispensers installed, masquerading as ordinary items around the household.

Priar cleared his throat.

"With respect, Lord Heir, might it have something to do with your discussion?"

Hanadan struggled briefly against the urge to narrow his eyes. Who was it that really employed this Priar? His father must have known, and deemed it worth the risk, especially if some of the other guards worked for opposing interests.

"This is no time for speculation. Go back to your fellows, and see if they've remembered something. Even the smallest detail may suffice."

Priar hesitated, his jaw working as if he hadn't yet finished what he had to say, but awkwardness won in the end. Muttering a greeting under his breath, he performed the shallowest of bows and hastily shuffled out of the room.

Hanadan sighed heavily when the door closed behind him, reached for his water gourd, and checked the timekeeper. He should be getting ready for the meeting.

"Thank Attira, I thought he'd never leave," grumbled a sleep-addled voice.

A heartfelt yawn followed, and Hanadan turned to frown at the flowery screen sheltering one corner of his receiving room.

"You've been awake for some time," he commented, tossing his head back to drink.

"Not as long as you," grumbled Karuss. "How are you still functioning?"

Hanadan wondered about that himself sometimes, but this morning there was just no room for doubt. He replaced the stopper on the gourd.

"Necessity," he answered simply.

Fabrics rustled slightly, and a bleary-eyed, disheveled-looking head peeked from behind the screen.

"You've had one of Quack's potions?" asked Karuss incredulously. "You know that's madness."

"No, madness would be going to sleep, like my body has demanded for more than twelve hours now. It's a machine, and it doesn't understand the importance of remaining alert during crucial moments. I'll make up for it later."

"You're killing yourself slowly, that's what you're doing. Same with the drinking, it can't be good for you."

"I'd rather die slowly than wake up in the middle of my nap with a knife sticking out of me."

"Nothing's sticking out of you, not with all that water in the way! You're the first man I've ever met who has the complexion of a pufferfish!"

Absolute silence descended in the aftermath of this exchange, the temperature seeming to steadily drop all around them. Hanadan couldn't look the other man in the eye after that, shame and guilt coiling in his guts and winding upwards to dry up his throat. But he couldn't drink in front of Karuss, not again.

For his part, Karuss appeared to have misinterpreted his reaction.

"Am I fired?"

Hanadan scoffed, disentangled his legs and stood up slowly.

"That ship has sailed long ago, my friend. With all that you've seen, I'd have to have you killed, and I know from experience how tough your hide is."

"So you're saying it's more inconvenient to get rid of me than having me stick around?"

"Precisely."

Karuss snorted, then yawned again.

"You don't mind if your faithful bodyguard takes the rest of the morning off, do you? He's had a troubled night."

"Poor man," muttered Hanadan, starting towards the door.

He hadn't yet thanked Karuss for all that he'd made him do. The fact that they'd seen the task completed had brought little satisfaction, as both men had been bone-tired when they returned to Hanadan's house mere minutes before sunrise. By then, words wouldn't have registered anyway.

As he reached for the door handle, Karuss' quiet voice halted him dead in his tracks.

"Tuar Leer. That's the name, if you didn't get a chance to look."

Fighting against sudden tears, Hanadan stepped outside, clicking the door shut behind him.

"My lord?"

Hanadan shook out of his sad spell and reasserted the cold composure demanded of a man in his line of work, which most of the times amounted to lying as convincingly as possible.

"You will accompany me to the main building this morning, Tsein. Corab, stand guard here."

Both men bowed their assent, and Tsein stepped hurriedly after him. 

Now here were two men whose loyalties he could vouch for. Not to him, of course. Corab reported to his mother, and Tsein to his uncle Tohab, who was widely regarded as the weakest Jebril sibling, granted a seat at their unofficial gathering as a mere courtesy. Few were the ones who suspected his actual role, coming as close as any man had to being Heddam Jebril's right-hand man. His father had trusted his youngest brother more than he had his son, but Hanadan didn't resent that attachment. They had known each other a very long time, and their mutual support had resulted in an underground empire that elicited the envy of the Jebrils' most powerful enemies. 

Hanadan had no direct control over the illicit areas of the family interests, but he knew who led each branch. Having been groomed to take over the courtier role from his father, his focus had been on diplomacy and the subtler arts, unsurprising since Jebril men had a noticeable lack of physical prowess, traded even before their birth for overactive minds, living to scheme and profit from every situation.

"Master, we caught a man trying to break into the house some two hours ago," said Tsein as soon as they were out onto one of the garden's broad pathways, no other person in sight. Hanadan focused on the gentle swaying of the short grass and breathed in the clear air. He felt refreshed, though he knew the sensation to be a lie. He had to take full advantage of the potion's effects until the reckoning was due. By his calculation, he still had some good four hours to go.

"Of course you did," he sighed. "I honestly can't fathom how a little bit of fog got everybody so excited."

The guard frowned.

"It wasn't a little. According to our own reports, the entire estate got flooded with the thing. Damn weird nature."

"Yes," smiled Hanadan. "I also think my father can be a force of nature sometimes. But he can very easily go overboard."

Let the man make of that what he will. 

They walked on in silence until they reached the small terrace leading to the back kitchens of the canteen house. A quick succession of taps by the side of a wooden panel summoned a burly servant, his waiter's uniform belying his true function.

"Good morning," said Hanadan brightly.

The man grunted, but stepped aside to let them pass. Tsein glared at the servant's dismissive attitude, but Hanadan himself could not be bothered. He glided forward, and a couple of twisted, windowless corridors later, they arrived at the meeting room. A line of bodyguards lounged against the wall opposite the narrow, nondescript door. Tsein joined them reluctantly as Hanadan let himself inside the room, not bothering to knock.

"Is Sebek here? No, of course not."

The other men settled in plush chairs around the table halted their discussion to glance at Hanadan, some with speculation, others with doubt, but none with outright hostility. So far, so good.

A stout man in a general's uniform cleared his throat pointedly.

"I am loath to remind you again, nephew," he rumbled, "that Dremen has borne the Jebril name for more than you've been alive."

"And I need not remind you, Uncle," replied Hanadan calmly, "that taking your wife's maiden name is no respectable method of changing your own. Furthermore, and you will forgive me this observation considering recent events, you could have used all that precious time to impose upon your son-in-law the primary importance of these meetings. I know it may appear a radical notion to some, but might I suggest that better communication and tighter coordination could have prevented last week's disaster?"

Several backsides shuffled uncomfortably in their seats at Hanadan's unwelcome reminder, said disaster involving the recent loss of a valuable convoy to an entirely preventable police ambush, no doubt informed by Tersi's faction. The idea of their rivals reclaiming their hard-earned stolen goods was more than upsetting; it was unacceptable.

"Gentlemen, please," said Tohab in a conciliatory tone just as Uncle Merith opened his mouth for a retort. 

Married to Heddam's only sister, Merith had brought some well-needed muscle to their family, now bolstered by the near thousand troops under his direct command. But recently, he'd let that authority slip in favor of his son-in-law Dremen. Some people might reasonably assume that Dremen was a master schemer in his own right, but those people must have never met the man. What irked Hanadan the most about his cousin was how monumentally obtuse he was, heedless to nuance and intent on doing everything with the care and consideration of a charging bull. And despite all that, he got most of what he wanted most of the time.

"Of course," conceded Hanadan in a steady voice. Keeping up the pretense was tiring and already, he could feel the thirst creeping in. "I would normally wait for Father before proceeding, but I gather that will not be necessary today."

Inquisitive and accusatory glances alike darted around the room, but none of the men chose to verbalize their suspicions; thank Lenga for that.

"Is... retaliation on our list today?"

That had been Uncle Ossar, his father's older brother, and the family's liaison to foreign power interests.

"I don't believe so," said Tohab. "Our agent in the Tersi household ensures that the plan is well underway."

"Is it another house fire?" complained the chief smuggler. "That's a bit overdone, isn't it?"

The spymaster and the senior bookkeeper nodded heartily, and the discussion devolved into a heated debate about the best revenge implementation. Ossar suggested letting locusts loose on the crops, Merith was naturally in favor of killing everybody, and Minister Chinchalla's secretary, who attended these meetings at least twice a month, wanted an epic flooding.

Only Tohab remained silent, watching them all with equal parts amusement and pity.

"Gentlemen, no single plan is better than all of them combined," said Hanadan, taking advantage of a momentary lull in their discussion. "Feel free to implement your own, you have free reign. Just make sure the flood doesn't put out the fire."

Tohab clapped his hands to distract them from resuming their arguing.

"And now," he announced, "we are to discuss next month's allocation of paramilitary resources."

Groans echoed around the table, but they all knew how these meetings ran, and the sooner they were done with the boring parts, the sooner they'd be back to plotting their general evil agenda. Hanadan might have even been persuaded to feel bad for the Tersis, if he weren't so dejected on his own behalf. His eyes had begun stinging, and his lips felt numb and dry. He snuck in a few gulps here and there, since many of the other men had brought their own jugs and were sipping at their leisure, but he felt the onset of a crisis. Quack's potion was bound to start showing its effects soon and Hanadan had to make sure he was in the right place before that happened.

Minutes seemed to drag by and Tohab's formal dismissal of the meeting couldn't come soon enough. By that time, Hanadan had to keep his hands clasped tightly across his abdomen, lest the others noticed their trembling. He'd given his contribution, paid enough attention and played his part, business as usual. But there was no misinterpreting his uncle's subtle eye movement, so he forced himself to endure for a little longer and lagged behind the others as they filed out of the room.

"An unfortunate occurrence, no matter the season, is bound to affect the crop," began Tohab when they were alone at last, "but what does one call it when the time of harvest has come, yet there is no one to reap the rewards?"

Hanadan did not deign to answer, instead staring unblinkingly until his uncle gave in and chuckled lightly.

"You've never been one for aphorisms."

"Is that what that was?"

Tohab shook his head and leaned closer across the table.

"This is a very bad time," he stated. "Your father was never prone to nervous breakdowns before, but that might have changed last night."

"Do you honestly believe he did it on impulse?" retorted Hanadan, raising his eyebrows at just the right angle. "This whole debacle gave me the impression of a calculated approach, every detail planned ahead."

"Yet neither you, nor I had any prior knowledge of it. And it is not like him to act the way he did."

A dull thudding began behind Hanadan's eyes, and he felt his eyelids twitching. Aiming for concealment, he leaned his head back against his seat and blinked slowly up at the ceiling.

"You've spoken to Mother," he guessed.

"She is concerned. As am I."

"Do her concerns extend to her son, or does she only keep in mind her immediate investments?"

"We have common investments as a family. Our path forward has been well delineated, but a strong hand is required to prevent us from straying. That is what weak minds do, when given the chance."

His uncle's stern tone put Hanadan in mind of his boyhood at the Academy, where he'd made it his challenge to see how many rules he could break without getting caught. Now, years later, he felt well and truly trapped.

"Sometimes an omission is as strong a statement as an outright declaration of war," continued Tohab. "You must take care."

"Why me in particular?"

"Because you are the heir apparent. And if you ever act in any way other than what is expected of you..."

"Don't you feel that we have a tendency to overcomplicate things?" mused Hanadan, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "That we focus on the giants when it's the mites that bring us down?"

When his uncle didn't reply, he lowered his head to regard the man.

"Forgive me," he said innocently. "It appears your aphorism attempts are contagious."

Tohab merely smiled and pushed away from the table.

"You are far more capable than they give you credit for, but you still have a long way to go."

Hanadan didn't reach for his gourd when his uncle left the room, even though the thirst was overwhelming. Instead, he pondered, eyes closed, steepled fingers resting on his chin. There had been something in the man's speech. An omission, weak minds seeking a chance, and then his own reminiscence of his Academy days...

His eyes snapped open as sudden fear engulfed him. The meeting had run for almost an hour, but one name hadn't been mentioned once during that time. The realization made him want to scream. His father had barely been gone for a few hours, and they were already planning stupid things! Stupid, dangerous things, that could see people he cared for get hurt. If it hadn't been for those people, he would have long faked his own death and disappeared overseas. But then again, if he didn't have anyone to worry about, what was the point of being alive?

Breathing heavily, he clawed at his sash to free the water gourd. As he drank greedily, he reminded himself of his responsibilities. He was still alive, and too busy to give up just yet.