Tell me about Kethlan,” she said. “What's she like?”

     “Beautiful! Tall, hair as white as snow. Slender and graceful. Already as sharp as a razor, bright as an electric candle. She'll be a force to be reckoned with one day, able to play the game of politics with the best in the world. She works as a maid in Krell’s mansion at the moment... What is it?”

     Ardria struggled hard to keep the amusement from her face. She worked as a maid at the moment, and she was pretty sure that a maid was all she would ever be, at least until she found herself married off to some minor aristocrat for political reasons, and that was almost certainly the very best she could hope for. If the Dukedom did survive, under Carrow rule, it would be Kriss Barlann, first of the newly formed House of Barlann, who would inherit it, with Joran Barlann as his heir, and the Pardews would fade away into history.

     She stared at the woman sitting across at her, spreading more honey on her bread and taking another sip from her wine. If she really did believe that the glory of the Pardews would be restored, then she was in for a very rude awakening the moment the King no longer had a use for her, and the fact was that her real usefulness had ended the moment she’d been uncovered as the traitor in the palace. So why was Nilon still indulging her, letting her continue to dream? Was it simply that none of his underlings wanted to take the responsibility for telling her the truth?

     That suddenly felt right to her. Carrow was a country ruled from above by fear of punishment, in which no-one dared to take the initiative and think for themselves. That was the real reason they'd managed to cross the border with a column of Helberion and Kelvon soldiers. It wasn't that Captain Leese had been unusually sensible and intelligent. It was that he’d been terrified of taking any responsibility for himself. All he'd dared to do was pass the buck to Colonel Hemdall. It had taken a man of his seniority to dare risk Nilon’s wrath. If that was true, then Nilon would disabuse Darniss of her delusions the moment they arrived at the palace.

     The effect on Darniss was likely to be dramatic, and the effect on her mission equally dramatic. Nilon would simply dismiss anything Ardria said as a last, desperate attempt to save Helberion from Carrow conquest. She’d been depending on Darniss lending her voice to the effort. The voice of a woman of influence in Carrow, who had nothing to gain and everything to lose by saving Helberion. If Darniss no longer had that influence, what hope was there? Maybe she had to hope that she was wrong to be so cynical, that Nilon really did intend to keep his promises. Was her pessimism being fuelled by her hatred for the woman? For the horror she’d subjected her to? Even now it was hard to think back on it. How she’d woken up each morning to find that her body had changed a little bit more, grown less human, more horrific. Feeling things shifting inside her as her internal organs moved and changed. Her very mind changing...

     I must see things clearly, she told herself. I need to talk to someone... She looked across at Tamwell and Brailsford, sitting at a table on the other side of the room with two Carrow soldiers keeping a close eye on them. Did either of them know enough about Carrow politics to be able to help? Tamwell had been nothing but a common soldier before being chosen for this mission, but Brailsford had been a member of the Kelvon embassy staff. He would have been primarily interested in Helberion politics, of course, but with the international situation as it was it was quite possible that he'd taken an interest in Carrow as well. The Carrowmen had been keeping them well separated until now, but maybe she could arrange something later, when they stopped for the night.

     Until then, there was Captain Silva, sitting right there, at their table with them. Could she somehow mine him for information without Darniss realising what she was doing? She decided to give it a try.

     She looked up at him. “You must forgive us, Captain,” she said. “We two women sitting here, chatting about family and completely ignoring you. Do you have family, Captain?”

     “I'm unmarried,” he replied. “I have a brother, though, who is normally based in Fastyke. Fortunately he was on assignment when your army attacked the city and missed being taken prisoner. Like the Duchess's grandson, he is currently in Helberion, doing to Marboll what your people did to Fastyke.”

     “I pray to Those Above that this war comes to an end before any harm comes to him,” said Ardria. “My mission to your country is to negotiate an end to this war. Let us hope your King and I come to an agreement before too many more lives are senselessly lost.”

     “If you want to surrender, you could have done that from Marboll and prevented any more deaths there and then.”

     “Unconditional surrender is not an option. There have to be terms, to ensure the safety of our citizens. I assume King Nilon will honour the terms of any agreement we reach?”

     “Are you questioning his honour, Your Highness?”

     “Of course not, but circumstances change. An arrangement that seems good to him one day may seem less favourable the next. If that happens, I have to be sure that he will abide by the terms of our agreement.”

     “I'm sure he would never put his name to an agreement unless he intended to honour it. Even if it weren't a matter of honour and integrity, he has his international reputation to consider. He has treaties and arrangements with many other countries. If he breaks one, how do they know he won't break others?”

     If he's a willing participant in the destruction of all human civilisation, he might not care, thought Ardria. And, of course, Silva couldn't have said anything else with his men close enough to overhear. This is pointless. What did I think I was going to learn? She had to keep trying, though. What else was she going to do?

     “Tell me about your brother,” she said. “What's he like? What's his name?”

     “His name is Jame, and he was raised from a mountain goat, as was I. They roam wild in the Tennern Hills, where I come from. Everyone in that part of the country adopts them. It’s probably why we’re so good at climbing, and why we're willing to eat anything, which is a definite advantage these days.” He prodded the lump of hard bloodcake on his plate with the tip of his knife. “They say this type of cake is made from goat blood. My parents say that my brother and I were both blooded regularly before we were adopted, and that they sold the cakes they made in the market. Maybe someone, somewhere, still has a supply of bloodcake made from blood I supplied while still a goat. Maybe this very pudding that I'm eating now.”

     “What a strange thought,” replied the Princess, looking down at the remaining cake on her plate and finding that her appetite had suddenly left her. But why should it? she asked herself. I've had bloodcake hundreds of times. The finest Dales and Blackburns in the Kingdom. I've always known, intellectually, that the animal that supplied the blood might have been adopted and become human. Why should it make a difference to meet a man who was once a goat and blooded? She made herself cut off another piece and raise it to her mouth. It tasted just the same as it had before, and she chewed and swallowed it.

     “I hope your brother is alright,” she said. “I hope he comes safely home from the war.”

     “As a loyal Helberion who is at war with us, you should be hoping that one of your soldiers kills him,” said the Captain dryly.

     “Well, I don't. What I hope and pray for is an end to the war. An end agreeable to both our countries.”

     “It was you who started the war. You attacked us.”

     “Because you were...” She cut herself off. No good would be done by playing the blame game. “Who started the war is not important. What matters is that we have a chance to stop it. You probably think you can defeat us on the battlefield and that diplomacy is, therefore, unnecessary, but how many of your countrymen will die while crushing the last remnants of our army? Maybe your brother. He, and Soonia's grandson, both have a better chance of coming home safely if we reach a negotiated settlement. You must agree with that.”

     “Although all soldiers must always be ready for war, no soldier wants war,” agreed the Captain. “If you and the King manage to come to mutually agreeable terms of surrender, then I would welcome that.”

     “Let's drink to that,” said the Princess, raising her glass. “An end to war. The return of peace.”

     “An end to the war,” agreed Captain Silva, raising his own glass. Soonia Darniss did the same. They all took a sip of the watered down wine together, and then they returned to their meal, eating in silence.

     Fifteen minutes later, they left the carriage stop and a pair of grooms brought their horses back from where they'd been having their own midday meal. As always, they climbed up into the saddles of different horses from the ones they'd ridden in on, as a precaution against parent bonds forming, and then the Captain led the way out of town, continuing on their way to Charnox.