Feeling quite uncertain all of a sudden, I simply stood there on the balcony, staring at Tenarreau as he sat there in his chair, a fairly unfamiliar and oblique smile on his face.

We stayed that way a while.

"Oh come now - there's no protocol for something like this, or so I'd imagine," he eventually said, idly waving at the open doorway that separated us. "However, if you absolutely insist . . . I invite you in. And you do look like a man who could use some tea - frightfully chilly out tonight, neh? Come, it's no trouble. I've got kava, chicory-vimroot, felberry, and a rather delightful elderflower and silverleaf blend you may wish to try."

And then, as though there was nothing unusual at all about my sudden appearance on his balcony, Prince Tenarreau dropped down from his chair, unhurriedly fetched two white cups from a nearby shelf, and went about preparing some water. At one point he actually began to whistle softly to himself.

For some reason I was very much reminded of my encounter with Lord Redforne just over a year ago . . . though it appeared my role was reversed this time around. I was now the interloper, breaking into his domain, and he was the one cheerfully offering me a drink. Was he scared as all Hades, just as I'd been at the time - trapped inside my own keep by a completely unexpected guest? Or was he really as relaxed and unconcerned as he seemed?

Had he planned this? Was it some kind of trap? Had he put Talia in danger just so I would do this very thing?

I mean, here I was outside of his bedchamber, fully prepared for him to be startled and unnerved by my sudden appearance, and what was he doing? He was offering me tea, as though I were paying him a social visit. The very first words he'd spoken even suggested my presence had been expected.

I hate it when things don't go exactly as I've imagined them.

"Yes. Vimroot, if you please," I said tightly, (again, shades of Redforne) stepping into the room and shutting the doors most of the way closed. I made sure they were left the slightest bit open, just in case I needed to exit the room in a hurry during the next few minutes. Several palace alarms had been tripped, after all, and this whole thing could merely be an act as he stalled for time, waiting for several of his guards to arrive.

I sat down on the edge of a nearby chair located a good distance from his desk, and I studied Tenarreau intently as he worked - setting water to boil, measuring out herbs for the small metal tea strainers, arranging everything just so. If he wasn't completely calm and relaxed right at that moment, well . . . he was a much better actor than I could ever hope to be.

"I do have to congratulate you on your handling of this little 'war' of ours, Tucat," Tenarreau called over his shoulder at me. "Some rather innovative and clever tactics. If any Lords or Ladies were daydreaming of challenging you for territory before all this started, doubtless they're having some second thoughts right about now. Staggering to think on it, neh? A year ago you were a fairly minor but well-to-do Lord, quietly minding your own business. Now, you'd be hard pressed to track down someone who doesn't know who you are, what with the inherent talent you seem to have for spectacle."

I found myself becoming even more perplexed. Though I couldn't see his face, his voice made it sound as though he was relaxed and smiling, perfectly at ease. Additionally, I was finding it rather hard to become upset or irate with him right then, like I'd somehow misplaced my anger and couldn't find it amongst all of the wary confusion I was feeling.

Maybe he'd lit a few candles to calm himself earlier, and their effects were still lingering about the room. I quickly scouted the room for candles or some other sign of drugs, but could see nothing obvious.

"Uhm, sorry . . . I wasn't really expecting this." I frowned, adjusting how I was sitting and smoothing my cloak. "In fact, I rather thought you'd be a little more . . . uh-"

"Pissed?" Tenarreau laughed. "Oh come now, this has been more fun than I've had in ages! No, I've rather enjoyed these little pranks of ours, Tucat."

'Pranks' . . .

I very quickly remembered where it was I'd put all that anger.

"No, not 'pissed' exactly," I said evenly. "I merely thought you'd be quite a bit more anxious, perhaps gibbering with terror or something. Either would be perfectly understandable reactions considering the nature of your most recent 'prank' . . ."

Tenarreau chuckled.

"Ah, yes. That one today took a great deal of planning," he said, pouring tea into a delicate-looking white cup. "You wouldn't believe how tempted I was to just come down there and watch in person."

I blinked in surprise, momentarily unable to believe the words he'd just spoken aloud.

He'd wanted to . . . what?

Tenarreau had spoken in a friendly, jovial manner, and still looked to be perfectly relaxed and at ease. Either there was something very, very off about this whole situation, or-

Or I was about to murder this tiny, emotionless little regent.

"Really?" I managed to ask between tightly clenched teeth. "Just wanted to come down and watch the 'fun', did you? A pleasant little diversion, giggling madly to yourself between the cries of pain, not caring a whit who might get hurt, hey?"

Tenarreau turned fully around, cup and saucer in hand, and cocked his head at me while furrowing his brow. After a moment's thought, he looked the slightest bit confused.

"Hurt?" he asked, sounding puzzled. "Did something happen?"

"Happen?" I asked, perhaps a shade louder than I'd intended. I took a quick breath through my nose and then fixed him with a look that made it feel like I should be snarling. "Well, I guess that would depend on your point of view! Nothing 'happened' to Talia, I suppose . . . though only barely. However, some fairly significant somethings 'happened' to that fellow your Preceptor sent to violate her! And if that's the sort of activity you would term a prank, then I strongly suspect that there's going to be a rather violent prank 'happening' very shortly, one that involves your entrails and about ten inches of sharpened steel!"

Tenarreau went absolutely still.

I mean it, too. A statue would have started taking notes.

For a moment I thought he was simply amazed that anyone would have the temerity to threaten him openly like that, but after a while I began to notice that he didn't appear angry or indignant whatsoever. His eyes were huge, and he possessed no trace at all of his previous, lighthearted demeanor as he stood there, cup in hand, just looking at me.

Though I'm hardly an expert when it comes to reading his expressions, Tenarreau appeared to be completely and thoroughly shocked.

"I- . . ." the slight figure began before falling silent, his mouth slightly agape.

After a moment, although I could still feel the stirrings of anger within my chest, and had resolved to stay alert for any hint of treachery, I realized that I was starting to become a tad confused by what I was seeing.

Tenarreau blinked a few times, eyes darting away as though considering, then looking to me, a puzzled expression on his face. He took a breath like someone who was about to say something, stopped, closed his mouth, opened it again, and then went still once more. After a couple more false starts, he slowly and very deliberately rested the cup and saucer he was holding atop a nearby table.

"Vincent," he managed, finally, shaking his head slightly as he spoke, "I swear to you, I . . . that? I would never even dream of-" He ran his fingers through his close-cropped grey hair, a gesture I'd never, ever seen him use before. "And . . . her? Gods, you think that I-"

"Yes, yes," I scowled, giving him a backhanded wave. "You're a fine, fine actor. Masterful. Given how well informed I know you are, do you honestly expect me to believe that you didn't arrange-"

"Please," he interrupted quietly, and in a small voice that was about as sincere and apologetic as any I'd ever heard before. "This- . . . these things we've been doing, they've all been little things, right? I mean, yes, at times they've been greatly amusing things, or even somewhat expensive and costly things . . . but to do something like that?" He shook his head again, briefly, a look of frank astonishment still firmly set upon his face. "I am well informed, as you've said. I know what she means to you, Vincent. Do you honestly believe I have a death wish?"

I realized just then that he'd been calling me 'Vincent', which was . . . well, unprecedented. Even during our private discussions, ones that took place with nobody else within earshot, I was always simply 'Tucat'.

My confusion deepened, and I decided it was my turn to start shaking my head slowly.

"I simply don't have any reason to believe you had nothing to do with this. If you did arrange everything, you'd probably be denying any involvement, just as you're doing now."

"Well, yes . . . there is that. But I thought-" He gave me a look of consternation.

"You thought what?"

"That you knew! That none of this has actually been serious!"

"I'd say it just got bloody serious!"

"I told you - I didn't do that!"

"And how exactly am I supposed to believe you?!"

Tenarreau cocked his head at that, drew his brows together in contemplation. Then, after some consideration, he gave me a look that seemed to say, 'Ah!'

"One moment, please," he said, maintaining eye contact as he pointed a finger to the far side of the room. "Please. No tricks, no duplicity - on my honor. I just wish to fetch something from over there. I believe it may make a few things a little clearer for both of us."

He bowed his head slightly and raised his eyebrows, motioning with his arms in a manner that seemed to ask for my permission. I gave him a slight nod of acquiescence, a gesture he returned before turning and, well . . . sort of awkwardly trundling over to the large wooden cabinet he'd pointed to.

It was when he had his back to me, arms stretched high above his head while standing on the tips of his toes and looking somewhat ridiculous, that I had a bit of a revelation.

This wasn't really 'the prince' at all . . .

That isn't to say that I saw through the disguise of some cunning decoy that had been left in his stead - this was indeed Tenarreau before me, but a version of him I'd never seen before. How he held himself, how he walked, how he spoke . . . I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, but there was a profound difference to it all of a sudden. It was like encountering a theatre actor out of makeup, and then wondering to yourself if the person in front of you really is that charismatic, well-spoken fellow you saw on stage a short while ago.

After about ten seconds or so spent standing on his toes in an undignified fashion, Tenarreau finally managed to pull down what he'd been reaching for - a flat, elaborately carved wooden box. He quickly opened and inspected its contents, smiled briefly to himself, and then hurried back over to where I sat with the box held open towards me. I cautiously peered inside.

About a dozen small, pinkie-sized crystals lay scattered upon the purple velvet interior of the box. I furrowed my brow and looked a question at him.

"Take one," he said, already reaching into the box to retrieve one of the small slivers of stone. "Trust me - things will go so much quicker this way."

Hesitantly, I reached my hand out over the open box, half expecting some trick. Tenarreau himself had reached for his own stone without looking, however, so these probably weren't going to explode or anything like that.

I took one of the crystals and inspected it. It looked to be regular quartz - six-sided, irregular point, slightly pink and fairly cloudy. Not exactly the sort of rock you expected a prince to be keeping in an expensive-looking wooden box. Curious, I looked yet another question at Tenarreau.

He smirked, nodding to indicate the crystal I held. "Tell a lie. Any lie you like."

I raised my eyebrows, considering him for a while, and then the crystal I held.

"I'm not incredibly pissed off about what happened to Talia earlier today," I said.

The crystal I held pulsed with light briefly, casting a soft glow that lasted for a half-second before winking out of existence.

I looked at what I held, a little bewildered at the impossibility I was being invited to consider. Though I attempted to display no outward signs of it, I actually began to panic a great deal, and became much more alert.

Magic that detected lies?

. . .

Tenarreau . . . had magic that detected lies?

Oh.

Crap.

This was probably a really, really, really bad thing.

"The Alladeshi are a very soulful, spiritual people," Tenarreau explained, rolling his own crystal between his thumb and forefinger, holding it at eye level. "They're known far and wide for their interest in mind-altering drugs, of course, but it all stems from a profound sense of spirituality and a desire to expand their understanding. And, as you probably know, they prize honesty above all else. Some of them believe that through plant essences, meditation, and intense honesty they can achieve a sort of 'shared consciousness' with one another. Even small lies are considered to be a barrier to that sort of understanding, which I would imagine is why they developed these things." He gestured at what I was holding and grinned at me. "Feels a bit unnerving, doesn't it? I was given one of these as a 'gift' during each of my official visits to Alladesh, each one presented in a manner that required me to wear it, or otherwise keep it visible. I suspect it's due to the fact that they don't particularly like or trust me, or Haraelians in general for that matter. Their envoy told me what the crystals did immediately, of course - to do anything else would have been dishonest. Still, their presence did make certain trade negotiations with them very . . . interesting. They call these particular stones floritee'anu."

"Oh." I gave a short laugh. "Well, thank the gods for that, at least!"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Hmmm?"

"Sorry, just a bit relieved is all. I was afraid they would end up being called something unimaginatively trite and cliche, like 'truthstones'."

"Floritee'anu is, of course, an Alladeshi word." He smiled. "It means 'truth stone'."

"Ah. Of course it does . . ."

Tenarreau gave me an amused chuckle, and then contemplated what he held briefly.

"I . . . am a handsome, strapping young lad who stands well over six feet tall," he announced, nodding sadly to himself as he watched his own crystal illuminate the area around his hand briefly. Then, once the pale light had disappeared, he gave a light sigh, turned to face me fully, and fixed me with a much more serious, somber look. "I had no knowledge at all regarding what happened to your keepmistress Talia earlier. Furthermore, if I had been in possession of such knowledge I would have acted to prevent it from happening. I'm very much aware of what she means to you, Vincent, and have no doubt that you'd be angry enough to skin me alive - or worse - were I to even attempt something like what you're suggesting."

The crystal he held did nothing.

I nodded slowly as I considered him, a little surprised by the full breadth of information he had just offered me. (Not to mention the whole bit about skinning him alive.) He could have simply said he wasn't the one responsible and been done with it, but he hadn't. If these things worked the way he suggested they might, it appeared he really wanted me to believe him, or perhaps allow me to gain a better understanding of what was truly going on here.

Of course, this whole thing could still be some sort of trick.

"Okay," I said, eventually. "Despite only half-believing the possibility of a piece of rock that can actually sense lies, let's say that I now believe that you weren't involved. That sort of thing didn't really seem like your style, actually, now that I think about it." A moment after speaking I felt a quick flush of panic, and quickly glanced at my own crystal, which continued to remain dull and subdued, much to my relief.

I immediately resolved not to make any further unnecessary statements regarding the prince's character. Not the sort of thing I'd want to get caught lying about, what with him standing right in front of me.

Tenarreau chuckled.

"Well, thank you. I do suspect you'll become convinced of the stone's properties rather shortly, because I'm afraid I must now insist that you answer a few questions of mine regarding the events you alluded to earlier." He gestured for me to hold the stone somewhere visible. "Arranged by a preceptor, I believe you said?"

Holding the crystal chest-height between us, and feeling profoundly nervous all of a sudden, I went through as many details of the incident as I could - being kidnapped from my keep, waking up in the cell, Borshank's entire plan as he'd described it to me. I did manage to leave Connor's name out of things, though I found myself having to gloss over several significant details in order to do so. The prince didn't appear to mind my vagueness, however, and listened to my retelling of my escape and subsequent scuffle in the alley with a thoughtful but troubled expression.

My crystal flickered to life only once during the entire time I spoke, when I'd offered Tenarreau my assurances that the fellow in the alley would 'probably be okay'.

I no longer had any doubts regarding how well these floritee'anu things could ferret out untruths.

"So then," Tenarreau said, allowing himself a disappointed sigh once I'd finished speaking, "it would appear that Borshank was the one responsible for all that happened earlier today."

"So it would seem."

"I'm afraid he doesn't much like you, Vincent, though I never believed he'd go so far as to try something like this. A rather unpleasant thing to consider, truly . . . but given that you weren't lying to me just now, I must assume that it's correct. He's rather overstepped his authority, to put it mildly. Very, very unfortunate. He'd managed the post of South Preceptor for a full decade prior to me being crowned as prince, and helped me navigate my way around things back then. Showed me the ropes, in many ways." He sighed unhappily once more, shaking his head while considering the floor. "Appointing new preceptors is always a pain - I've never had a good experience doing it. South is a particularly important position, too, being the most densely populated area in Harael. It is also, of course, where most of your territory sits, which does increase its importance fairly dramatically. For the short term, at least."

Though he held it in a way that partially shielded it from view, out of the corner of my eye I could see that Tenarreau's crystal hadn't glowed in the slightest as he'd spoken.

The room was silent for a while . . .

His words, everything he was sharing with me right now . . . nothing in our dealings with one another had prepared me for it. This was completely and utterly unlike the Tenarreau I thought I understood. He sounded tired, disappointed, and maybe even a bit vulnerable. He'd referred to me by name, and almost seemed to be confiding in me a little. That probably wasn't the sort of thing he did very often.

I'd always known that the position of prince was an unforgiving, stressful sort of job, but why in the world had it never once occurred to me to stop and consider what Tenarreau's life was actually like? What if the only people he could ever just have a normal conversation with were the very preceptors he'd appointed to their roles? They were the closest thing to peers he had, after all. What if they were also the only ones he could just be himself around?

If that were the case, learning of Borshank's actions like this would probably feel like a tremendous betrayal of trust.

Nobody was immune to strife or disappointment. Princes had problems, just as anyone else. Tenarreau was prematurely grey, and probably for very good reason . . . what with the gargantuan responsibilities that fell on his diminutive shoulders.

I realized that I was beginning to feel rather bad about some of the pranks I'd pulled on him lately, and briefly considered just how much more stressful I'd been making his already difficult job.

And so, after a moment's thought, I decided I should probably tell him so.

He listened patiently to my fumbling, hesitant attempts at apology for a while, looking a tad confused until about halfway through my second sentence. Then, face lighting up in a grin of realization, he waved for me to stop.

"Oh, come now . . . are you joking?" he laughed. "This has all been tremendous fun - about the most fun a prince can actually have! Do you have any idea just how hard it was for me not to laugh out loud when you'd cut a hole in that first precept? I thought I was going to hurt something!"

I favored him with a bewildered look, an expression that was beginning to feel very familiar.

"Really?"

"Oh come, surely you don't think I'm incapable of appreciating the sort of effort and creativity that goes into the sorts of things you've pulled off this past month and a half? It's easy to see why you and Haundsing seem to enjoy your playacted bickering so much, to be honest. Given all of the decisions I'm faced with, the lives hanging in the balance, the daily drudgery and paperwork . . . why, there were some days where I was actually looking forward to hearing about your newest tomfoolery. I was glad for the distraction! You've seen first hand what my days are normally like, have you not?"

"Actually, that's something I was wondering about, myself. Last month, in the throne room . . . some of those things you were giving your attention were rather baffling. I hope you don't mind me asking, but why do you bother? You know, personally handling inconsequential matters like those?"

Tenarreau rolled his eyes good-naturedly and smiled.

"Really? I figured you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Why, about the burden of being prince, of course! The reason I must remain alert, and be aware of what's going on around me at all times." He gave me a little smirk. "As you are no doubt aware, any Lord accused of violating a precept can elect to be tried by the reigning prince - all others must settle for dealing with a magistrate. However, when it's a legal argument concerning personal property or disagreements of that nature, and if one of the involved parties wishes to appeal the court's official verdict, anyone can request that the prince personally handle their dispute or complaint, and just about everyone does.

"When a prince passes law or settles a dispute, however, the verdict he arrives at can be used as precedent, affecting similar disagreements later on. They're much like precepts, which is the reason why I must be very careful whenever passing judgment. I might side with a shop owner over some small dispute regarding an untrimmed tree limb hanging over his property, only to have some Lord later use that same verdict to argue that he's entitled to some or all of his neighbor's property, simply because a leaf from a nearby shrub fell upon his lawn one afternoon."

I raised my eyebrows at that. "You're joking."

"I very much wish I was. Laws can be a tricky sort of thing, especially in a city such as ours. You've demonstrated that fact once or twice yourself these past few weeks. It's like playing a giant game of Roc'la . . . trying to figure out the hidden motivation behind each grievance I'm handed, analyzing each decision I make for potential flaws. Very few of the 'trifling' matters I deal with are actually minutiae at all. Most turn out to be attempts to subvert the law for personal gain, or even just a Lord testing me for weakness, seeing if they can slip something past my notice. Many Lords and Ladies encourage their tenants to petition me with very specifically-worded requests for this very purpose. One of the reasons I've always liked you, Vincent, is because you appear to have no interest in this sort of activity at all . . . though to be fair, it does sound as though you were unaware it was going on in the first place." He gave me a funny look. "Why did you suppose that any of your fellow Lords even bother to attend court in the first place? Did you perhaps think it was my charming, effervescent personality?"

I reviewed his last couple of sentences.

He'd always . . . liked me?

The sheer number of things I'd been finding surprising these past several minutes was beginning to alarm me.

"Well, I didn't really see any benefit, personally - saw the whole thing as a waste of time, no offense. I guess I figured that those in attendance were trying to curry favor, perhaps get themselves noticed . . . that sort of thing." I shook my head in wonder. "Wow. Being prince sounds like even less fun than I'd assumed."

"Well, yes. I do try to not decide anything whenever possible, much to the frustration of those who bring the occasional legitimate claim to my attention. It's a difficult thing, being that consistently evasive, and the results are hardly ever what anyone might consider fair. Being Prince of Harael isn't an easy thing, to be sure. Arguably, the only position more difficult would be that of the Dynast."

I blinked.

"Sorry . . . the Dynast? Like, the folklore hero?"

At first Tenarreau chuckled, but after a brief examination of my face his expression became one of puzzled concern.

"Oh, surely you know about the Dynast," he said, disbelief evident in his tone. "You know . . . the king?"

Again with the surprises.

"But . . . that's just legend!"

"Vincent, you have not one, but two of Ledrick Awleeve's own journals sitting in your private collection! He was Dynast for nearly three full decades! Do you seriously mean to tell me that his private journals never once mentioned that fact?"

"They're over four-hundred years old!" My voice was getting slightly louder, I realized, possibly from a combination of frustration and astonishment. I modified my tone a little before continuing. "Those books are falling apart with age - I don't actually sit around reading them! And besides, both are just a collection of poetic musings and other-"

"Ye gods, what was your father thinking?" he breathed, sounding mystified. "I mean, yes . . . most people believe the Dynast to be a folk tale, but I figured that since your father knew, he'd at least have told you." Tenarreau seemed to quickly consider something. "Alright, I'll give you the tinker's version of the whole thing, just so we're on the same page. The Lleidr Commonweath consists of nineteen city-states, of which Harael is one. Each is governed by its own prince or princess of thieves, much as I do here."

"Well duh," I said, perhaps a touch impatiently. "I didknow that much already."

My crystal glowed softly, and I muttered a curse under my breath.

"Okay, okay," I amended, scowling. "I thought there were only eighteen."

Tenarreau allowed himself a chuckle before continuing. "Well, of the Nineteen, one of us is selected as Dynast, and he or she governs in secret over the entire commonwealth-"

". . . from a skull-shaped castle in the sky, with spires of gold, and-"

"No, no, no . . ." said, waving a dismissive hand. "There's no castle or anything like that."

"Well, I was kind of hoping I wasn't being asked to believe in floating castles just now. I'm already pushing the limits of what I'm prepared to believe today." I cocked my head a little and considered him. "So then, where exactly does the Dynast go once they're pronounced Dynast?"

Tenarreau looked perplexed a moment, and his expression caused me to feel a touch of relief.

Hey, at least I wasn't the only confused one here . . .

"The Dynast doesn't 'go' anywhere, Vincent," he said, finally. "It's as I told you - the Dynast is one of the Nineteen. In addition to ruling over theirparticularcity, the Dynast also makes high-level decisions for the entire realm, and all other city-states fall in line. Who the Dynast is changes from time to time, through secret votes and . . . well, other less savory methods. None of us know why that's the way it is, but that's the way it's always been." He took a moment to inspect his nails. "I suspect it was all based on some clever notion that it's more difficult to assassinate a king when one has no idea where or even who that king might actually be."

"So, you're saying there's someone out there who actually outranks you?"

He gave me a significant look.

"I didn't say I was outranked, Vincent," he said, carefully.

My eyes widened.

"You're the Dynast?" I managed to sputter.

"I didn't say that either, actually . . . and you'll have to forgive me if I seem vague when it comes to the details, but there's an oath I must adhere to. I cannot divulge any information about who the Dynast is, or even deny that it's me. Every two years there's a gathering of the Nineteen, at which point each of us swears to have kept that oath. Something very much like these stones are employed to ensure we're telling the truth," he said, gesturing at the object he still held. "Although, they do something far, far more unpleasant than simply glow softly, should one of us ever be caught lying. I can't even tell you what the oath is without violating it."

The crystal he was holding hadn't so much as glimmered in the entire time he'd been speaking to me.

Despite feeling somewhat dumbfounded, I began to realize that several of the things about Tenarreau and his behavior that had puzzled me all these years were beginning to make some measure of sense.

"So, I'm guessing that simply telling me more details about the rose blight infection at Tucat Keep would similarly violate your oath?"

Tenarreau made as if to speak, then appeared to catch himself. He smiled wanly at me.

"Let us say instead that there has always been a very specific reason for me telling you the things I've told you, knowing the conclusions you would likely draw from them."

I'd taken to covertly watching his crystal as he talked. True.

"And our meeting in the August Foyer?" I asked.

"The walls have ears," he said simply, waving to indicate the room. "This is the only place I can guarantee complete privacy. And, as you've already guessed, simply handing over certain information you're pursuing would likely result in something most unpleasant happening to me, sooner rather than later. Within the context of our public dealings, our conversation that day was intended to give you both an excuse and permission to do exactly as you felt you needed to, all in a manner which doesn't actually violate my oath. Allowing you the opportunity to take information from me is a much, much different sort of thing than me simply giving it to you."

Also true.

There was a lengthy pause.

"So," I said, finally, "what you're telling me is that the concept of pressuring you for the information I'm looking for-"

"-is fundamentally flawed, yes, since I can never simply 'give in' and relinquish it to you." He gave me a curious look. "I do sincerely hope that you're planning some other way of acquiring the information you seek . . . one that relies on something other than what you've been doing thus far."

True.

I nonchalantly shielded my own crystal from view before answering. "Of course. That's been the plan all along."

"Well, good," he said, his expression indicating he was either unaware of my gesture, or (more likely) politely ignoring it. Then, he gave me a very different sort of look. "Tell me something. When you do find the information you wish, and I have no doubt that you will, what is it you plan to do?"

I took a deep breath and exhaled through my nose as I considered, briefly opening up my palm and glancing down at the crystal I held.

"Perhaps I shouldn't tell you, Highness. As prince, you may be oath-bound to try to stop me once I did."

"Ah," he said, with a trace of a smirk. "You'll be doing 'that'. Well then, a follow up question, if you're amenable."

"Ask away."

He gave me an enigmatic look and scrutinized me for a few heartbeats.

"Can you?" he asked.

I frowned. "Can I . . .?"

"You know . . . 'that'. Do you have it in you? It takes a certain kind of person to do what I suspect you're proposing, and it changes you in ways you may not like. And yes, I'm speaking from first-hand knowledge." He gave a light sigh, gently rolling his crystal between thumb and forefinger, as though out of habit. "I was involved with someone many, many years ago. Elaine." He smiled fondly, eyes getting a bit of a faraway look. "She was a rare girl. There's not many who could put up with the things she did, especially considering the hours I tend to keep.

"Elaine became insistent that I share things with her after a while, and began poking away at some of the burdens I carried. After a while, once she'd actually convinced me to share some inkling of these burdens with her, I hinted at the sort of things I had done as prince . . . the sort of stuff I was capable of. Two days later, she was gone." He half-shrugged and gave me a weary look. "She couldn't reconcile any of the things I'd shared with what she thought she already knew of me. I don't blame her for it - you can't simply un-learn things you've discovered about a person, after all."

I was beginning to realize that myself . . .

"I've done many terrible things as prince. I've ruined lives, made difficult choices that resulted in the deaths of people who didn't deserve it. I've wept over decisions I've made . . . begged that the gods might forgive me for some of the things I've done, or ordered done in my name. I've had nightmares for months at a stretch. It's not an easy thing." He looked down and sighed quietly. "None of it is."

All true. His stone never lit up once. Gods . . .

A suspicious, paranoid part of my brain kept pointing out the fact that this whole thing could be some elaborate trick. After all, I'd only seen his own crystal light up the one time, and I wasn't the only guy who practiced things like sleight-of-hand. The more I listened to him talk, however, the less likely that possibility seemed.

I also got the sense that this wasn't the sort of conversation he had with just anyone. He'd probably barely even scratched the surface, and yet the man I was considering seemed a very, very different person to me all of a sudden.

We both stood there in silence as the seconds lengthened into minutes.

"So, Tucat . . . can you?" he asked, simply.

I regarded him a long moment, cleared my throat, and held my own crystal up in plain view.

"I can do whatever is necessary," I said.

Tenarreau didn't actually look at the crystal I was holding, but I could sense he was aware of it. He looked up at me, nodded, and gave me an indecipherable smile.

"You know, you'd make a very good prince," he said.

True.

I just about choked on the air I was breathing.

"Well, that's that I suppose," he continued, voice now sounding more upbeat and far less solemn than it had these past few minutes. "You continue with your plan, and I'll begin legal proceedings - let Borshank know I'm not happy with how he's representing me." He sighed. "There'll be a legal challenge, of course, and he'll say I have no reason to dismiss him, but I'll manage."

"No reason? But, Talia-"

"Oh, this is all just between you and I, obviously. Though we both know the precise reason he'll be exiting his position, there is likely no actual proof to speak of. He can be fairly clever when he has half a mind to be, and it's doubtful he left behind any sort of evidence when it comes to what he arranged today."

"But," I protested, gesturing with what I held, "what do you need evidence for? You've got proof right here! These . . . flori- . . . something-somethings-"

"Floritee'anu. Yes, there are very good reasons that not many know about these things, and I do try to keep it that way. People would want them introduced at court - declare their innocence and demand the opportunity to prove it." Tenarreau smiled, shaking his head sadly. "It would be a disaster. Our whole society is based on lies, subtlety and thievery. Can you even imagine the chaos that these would create?"

In my mind, I briefly reviewed a few of the less-than-legal activities I'd been involved in this past month. Then I tried to imagine each of them happening in a world where people could divine how truthful I was being at any given time. It wasn't pretty.

"Yeah," I said eventually, nodding my understanding. "I do kind of see your point there."

Tenarreau chuckled briefly, reaching over to retrieve the ornate wooden box from where he'd left it. He held it open for me, raising an eyebrow as he did. "A little truth can be a dangerous thing. Let's put these things away, shall we? For such insubstantial little objects, they do begin to feel quite heavy and uncomfortable after a while, neh?"

I grinned at him, gave my crystal a light toss in the air before catching it, and then slowly lowered it into the ornate box . . .

. . . at which point, for whatever reason, I did about the craziest, scariest, and most dangerous thing I've ever done in my entire life.

Dropping the crystal into the wooden container with a gentle 'clunk', I allowed my hand to linger over a completely different crystal for a split-second, palmed it, and then removed both my hand and the second crystal just as naturally as I possibly could.

It was one of those moments that you can scarcely believe is happening, even as you're watching yourself do it. It felt almost exactly like the very first time I'd ever lifted a purse from a live target.

I forced myself to breathe as I lowered my hand to my side, trying to look relaxed. My heart felt as though it was attempting to bounce off of every other organ inside my chest.

I gave the prince a quick glance to see if his demeanor had suddenly changed.

He appeared not to have noticed.

"I must say, however, this whole situation does rather ruin any plans I had for the week." Tenarreau let out another tired sigh, and he seemed to age a little right before my eyes. "Possibly the entire month. South Preceptor is a rather prestigious position, and its appointment has to be handled carefully, tactfully. Depending on how long our 'war' continues, my choices may be quite limited, now that I stop and consider it. If the new preceptor pursues you and your activities too aggressively, you may find yourself hamstrung and unable to act in the manner you wish. Put in someone who isn't aggressive enough, and that entire section of town suffers for it."

"What about Peyla, Highness?" I asked, taking the opportunity to nonchalantly drop my newest acquisition into a trouser pocket. He didn't appear to notice that, either. "She and I have a fairly good working relationship at the moment, but she does appear to have quite a firm hand whenever acting in an official capacity. I don't doubt that she'd be up to the task."

"Well," Tenarreau said, shrugging a small gesture at me as he lightly dropped his own crystal into the shallow box he was holding, "I'll certainly consider that possibility. Shall I make arrangements to have someone see you out? Doubtless you'd prefer leaving in a slightly different manner than you entered, and I'd hate for any of the guards to accidentally mistake you for the alarm-tripping vagabond who attempted to break into the palace earlier."

"If it's not too much trouble, Highness," I said, grinning as I gave him a slight bow, holding it for slightly longer than I'd intended.

Though I'd bowed to him hundreds of times in the past, on dozens of separate occasions, there was something different about how this one felt. It was as though the gesture now stirred feelings of respect that hadn't been present before this moment.

The two of us walked over to his bedchamber door, and I politely found something else to look at while he disabled the various traps and alarms protecting it. Soon the door was swinging open, and he was waving a gesture at the empty hallway.

"Your first left, at which point you should probably wait at the top of the stairs. Nobody is allowed up here for any reason unless specifically ordered, so you likely won't be troubled until your escort arrives. Oh, also . . . could I ask one small favor of you?"

"Of course."

"When you return to your keep, you're very likely going to learn the various details concerning that prank I'd alluded to earlier, the one I'd expressed a desire to be present for. Please do try your best to look outraged and incensed, would you?" He gave me a knowing grin. "After all, this is serious business, this war of ours, and I doubt it would help matters if you began giggling madly upon witnessing it."

I'm not entirely certain what caused me to laugh just then, but I suspect it had something to do with a mischievous twinkle that had suddenly appeared in Tenarreau's eye.