"How could I not be content? For I cannot imagine a more serene place."

He gave a shrug. "I will have to take you at your word. As you know, I utterly lack your and Lady Crayford's sensibility. I believe she brings me along solely because if I think a thing is worth looking at, then it must have no artistic value whatsoever, and so she knows not to paint it." at, then it must have no artistic value whatsoever, and so she knows not to paint it."

"I am sure that's not true!"

"On the contrary, it's terribly true. Just as it's true she wishes for you to come along because she knows that if your eye finds a thing intriguing, then there must be something of worth in it."

Ivy would not be accused of possessing abilities she did not. "I know very little of art! I only say what I think."

"Precisely. As most people say what they believe others think, that makes you a very rare and precious commodity, Lady Quent! And one that the rest of our party are wanting for. They wondered where you had gone and so headed off in all directions, looking hither and thither for you. However, once I saw this patch of trees, I knew at once to look for you here."

"What makes you say that?"

"Why, you have an affinity for trees. If we come near any in our ramblings, you are ever drawn to them-at least your gaze is, if not the whole of yourself. I am sure you are quite taken up with trees!"

A chime of alarm sounded within Ivy. For a moment she felt as she did when she was eight years old, standing by the New Ash in Lorring Park as the priest called out to her.

She did her best to make her tone light. "I suppose I do like them, for they are very picturesque."

He laughed. "Like them? On the contrary, you are quite smitten with them! Nor is there any reason to deny it. I have no doubt that if I liked looking at trees and prospects rather than at sleek horses and fast carriages, then I would be both a better and a richer man."

Unlike the priest all those years ago, Ivy detected no hint of suspicion in his words or on his face. All the same, she found she no longer wished to be among the trees.

"I am sorry I caused a commotion," she said. "We had better return to the others at once."

He offered his arm, and together they made their way from the grove. As they started across the field beyond, Ivy caught sight of a man in a blue coat waving at them.

"I believe Captain Branfort has seen us," she said.

"I'm sure he has. I've never met a man with keener eyes."

"Then it is good he is with us."

"Yes, it is. I'm glad his duties allow him to accompany us on occasion. And it is good that Colonel Daubrent and your friend-Mrs. Baydon, is it?-have taken him in. Goodness knows he could use a bit of congenial society. Poor old Branfort!"

Ivy shook her head. "What do you mean, 'Poor old Branfort'? Twenty-seven is hardly old! And I can think of no reason to call him poor." She thought of something Mr. Rafferdy had said once. "He is not so so lacking in height." lacking in height."

This seemed to bemuse Lord Eubrey. "Height? No, I was not making a reference to his stature. He's a good-looking fellow, and handsome adds half a head. Rather, his deficit is one of companionship."

"Companionship? But as you said, he has made the acquaintance of the colonel as well as Mrs. Baydon, and they cannot be his only society. I am sure such an agreeable man must have a number of friends."

"Must he?" Eubrey gazed across the field. "A military man moves about a great deal. I have not known him for long, but from my conversations with the captain I gather that he has less often been stationed at a lively place such as Point Caravel and more often at remote forts and outposts, ones that housed few men of comparable rank."

Ivy could only concede that, depending on where he was stationed, it might be difficult for an officer to find appropriate society, and there was no Mrs. Branfort.

"What of his family? Surely they must provide Captain Branfort with some companionship."

Lord Eubrey looked down at her. "His family? But don't you know about Captain Branfort's family, Lady Quent?"

"No, he has never spoken of them that I've heard."

"For good reason. You see, his family settled at Marlstown."

Ivy could not hide her horror. "Marlstown?"

Lord Eubrey nodded, his face solemn. They walked more slowly now, and Ivy tried to comprehend this revelation. While the New Lands were thought to be vast, the Altanian colonies were limited to the islands situated off the western coast. To date, all attempts to establish a permanent colony on the sh.o.r.es of the main continent had failed. now, and Ivy tried to comprehend this revelation. While the New Lands were thought to be vast, the Altanian colonies were limited to the islands situated off the western coast. To date, all attempts to establish a permanent colony on the sh.o.r.es of the main continent had failed.

The most recent of these attempts had been at Marlstown. A colony of three hundred souls was founded there over twenty-five years ago. According to a missive from the founders carried by one of the ships on its return voyage to Altania, the new colony was thriving. The land was fertile, the climate mild, and contact had been made with the nearby aboriginals, who were found to be curious and peaceable.

After that, no more missives ever came from the colony.

When at last an Altanian navy ship was able to sail down the coast to Marlstown half a year later, they discovered a terrible scene. The stockade that housed the colony had been burned to the ground, as had all the surrounding houses. There had been no sign of any of the colonists. Nor, when the men explored away from the coast, had they found any of the aboriginals. Instead, they had come upon only empty campsites.

The men attempted to go deeper inland but soon found themselves rebuffed by the deviously thick forest that covered the land in all directions. In the years that followed, several more ships went to Marlstown in an attempt to learn what had happened to the colony. However, no clue as to the fate of the colonists was ever found.

There had been rumors, though. Ivy remembered hearing some of them when she was small: how a navy lieutenant had returned stark mad from an expedition along that section of the New Lands coast, and had raved about a bottomless lake whose sh.o.r.es were strewn with skeletons but no skulls. And how the captain of a trader ship, blown ash.o.r.e near Marlstown by a storm, had encountered a wizened aboriginal man who had told him not to venture into the forest "lest the spirits there take his head."

Ivy supposed these were no more than stories fabricated by people fascinated with a terrible and inexplicable incident. In subsequent expeditions, no such lake had ever been discovered, and no native people were encountered in the vicinity. All the same, in the years since the destruction at Marlstown, there had not been any other attempts to establish a settlement on the mainland of the new continent. The forest was too vast and impenetrable, it was said, and the natives there too hostile. people fascinated with a terrible and inexplicable incident. In subsequent expeditions, no such lake had ever been discovered, and no native people were encountered in the vicinity. All the same, in the years since the destruction at Marlstown, there had not been any other attempts to establish a settlement on the mainland of the new continent. The forest was too vast and impenetrable, it was said, and the natives there too hostile.

"I don't understand," Ivy said at last when she found her voice. "How did he survive what occurred at Marlstown?"

"He was not there," Lord Eubrey said. "I learned about it all from Colonel Daubrent. Captain Branfort was sickly as an infant, having been born too soon, and did not make the journey with his parents. Instead, he was left with a distant relative who planned to send him over when he grew stronger. Of course, that never happened. Though later, Captain Branfort did indeed go to the New Lands, during the campaign at Aratuga."

Aratuga was one of the island colonies, a place where much sugar and rum were produced, and so of great value. Among the southern islands were several corsair states that had broken away from the Empire in decades past. One of these had attempted to gain control of Aratuga some years ago, but had been defeated by Altanian forces.

Lord Eubrey quickened his pace. "Come, Lady Quent, I can see the others are waiting for us. And if you would, don't mention to Captain Branfort that I told you of his history."

"I would never think of it!" she exclaimed.

To speak of such things could only bring up the most distressing memories, and that was something Ivy would never want to do. Lord Eubrey nodded, but he said nothing more, for by then they had come upon the rest of their little party.

"There now, I should have known it would be you who would find her, Eubrey!" Colonel Daubrent said, taking several long strides toward them. "But no doubt you had an unfair advantage, and used some sort of magick to deduce her whereabouts."

Lord Eubrey affected an aggrieved expression. "On the contrary, I did nothing of the sort!" He made a deliberate gesture with his right hand, so that the blue gem of his House ring caught the sunlight. his right hand, so that the blue gem of his House ring caught the sunlight.

"Well, however you found her, we are grateful," Captain Branfort said. "Though I wonder what we did to drive you away, Lady Quent. I hope you didn't find our company tedious."

"Of course she found it tedious!" Lady Crayford exclaimed. She wore a gown the color of periwinkles that brought out the violet hues in her eyes. "How could she not find it so? I was fussing over my painting, while you men were speaking of guns and dogs and all manner of topics a woman of any measure of sensibility would find dreadful. It's a wonder Lord Eubrey was able to convince her to come back to us. But now that you have, Lady Quent, you must tell me what you think of my painting."

She took Ivy's hand and led her to her easel. Ivy gazed upon it with great wonder and delight. It was as if the sunlight itself had somehow been condensed into a kind of pigment, which the viscountess had then applied to the canvas in bold strokes.

"It's beautiful!" Ivy said, or rather gasped.

"I had not thought it to be particularly good." The viscountess gazed, not at the canvas, but at Ivy. "Yet I know that your eye is excellent, and that you are capable of speaking only truth, so I must concede there is some worth in the composition. Still, I do not believe you have spoken the entire entire truth. There is something amiss with it-I can see it in your expression. Do not deny it, Lady Quent, for I am as discerning of faces as you are of country scenes!" truth. There is something amiss with it-I can see it in your expression. Do not deny it, Lady Quent, for I am as discerning of faces as you are of country scenes!"

So addressed, Ivy could only nod. "Yes, but it is the littlest thing. The birch trees on the left are lovely, but you have made them somewhat too perfect, I think. They are more crooked in life, and they lean a bit to one side."

Captain Branfort peered at the canvas, then regarded the distant prospect. "I believe she may be right."

"Of course she's right, Branfort!" Lord Eubrey said with a laugh. "I am quite sure Lady Quent is an expert on trees."

"I am nothing of the sort!" Ivy said, and felt her cheeks glowing.

"Do not protest, Lady Quent, for modesty when it is false is no virtue," Lady Crayford said, misunderstanding the source of Ivy's discomfort. "You are exactly right. I had felt there was something wrong with that side of the canvas, only I did not know what it was. I see now that I was painting the trees how I thought they should be, rather than how they are. Yet as ever, the imperfect is more fascinating than the idealized. For though the scene is tranquil now, the leaning of the trees speaks of winds that have blown at other times, and will surely blow again. I shall change them at once." discomfort. "You are exactly right. I had felt there was something wrong with that side of the canvas, only I did not know what it was. I see now that I was painting the trees how I thought they should be, rather than how they are. Yet as ever, the imperfect is more fascinating than the idealized. For though the scene is tranquil now, the leaning of the trees speaks of winds that have blown at other times, and will surely blow again. I shall change them at once."

At this Colonel Daubrent shook his head. "Must you change them, sister? I rather like the trees the way they are."

"You mean all standing straight in a row like good soldiers?" Lord Eubrey said, his eyes sparkling. "You would make a regiment of them if you could, and have them march all about on your order."

"Now you're speaking nonsense, Eubrey," Colonel Daubrent said, a scowl darkening his handsome face, "as you so often do. A grove of trees can hardly march here and there."

Lord Eubrey smiled, though it seemed a rather sly expression. "Oh, they can't?"

The sunlight seemed to go white around Ivy. She was suddenly too warm, and the moist air, thick with the scent of honeysuckle, was cloying.

"Lady Quent, are you well? You look very flushed of a sudden."

She blinked and saw Captain Branfort before her. He took her arm, steadying her.

Ivy managed what she hoped was a light tone. "I'm sorry. I think perhaps I walked too far, that's all."

"Glory above, Eubrey!" Daubrent exclaimed. "What were you thinking, dragging her all the way across the field like that?"

Ivy tried to protest, and to tell them it was hardly Lord Eubrey's fault that she had ventured off across the fields. Only, it was difficult to breathe. She let Captain Branfort lead her to one of the chairs they had set up, and he dutifully held her parasol to shade her while the colonel brought her a cup of wine.

Ivy felt some mortification at being fussed over so, and by captains and colonels besides, yet she could not say she entirely disliked it. The wine and shade revived her, and she was soon able to relieve the captain of the parasol, which appeared to greatly relieve and colonels besides, yet she could not say she entirely disliked it. The wine and shade revived her, and she was soon able to relieve the captain of the parasol, which appeared to greatly relieve him him.

That a man with such a troubled history could have such a kind and goodly nature was a thing of amazement to Ivy. A life deprived of the comforts of family and close companionship would have left many men surly or ill-adapted for gentler society. Not so Captain Branfort.

After that, Ivy was content to sit beneath her parasol while the others spoke and the viscountess painted. As was often the case in present company, the conversation turned to a discussion of what amus.e.m.e.nts to engage in next, and it was soon decided that the viscountess would host an affair at her house three lumenals hence. It would not be a grand party, but rather an afternoon tea, with perhaps only four dozen invited.

"I am sure you men are bound to find the idea of a tea very dull," the viscountess said as she mixed colors on a palette with a brush. "Therefore, we will give it the theme of a hunting party. We will have it out in the garden. I will summon Lord Crayford's huntsman from the lodge out in Starness, and he can give a parade of the viscount's best dogs. We will tap a cask of cider right there on the lawn and will have plenty of tobacco on hand. What's more, we can release a cage of quail or grouse into the air, and you men can make what sport with them you will."

"We cannot shoot our guns in the city," Colonel Daubrent said sternly. "It would cause a hazard."

Lady Crayford tapped the handle of her brush against her cheek. "Would it? I suppose it must. Well, we can at least hide the birds about and have the dogs fetch them for a little play." Lady Crayford turned to smile at Ivy. "And do not fear, Lady Quent. I will raise a pavilion so we ladies can enjoy finer fare and amus.e.m.e.nts than what the men will be engaging in."

Ivy could only smile in return. She had never seen a hunting party before, and even a mock affair here in the city was bound to be a thing of great interest and enjoyment. Except...

"What is wrong, Lady Quent?" the viscountess said. "You look awfully grim of a sudden. Do you detect some flaw in my scheme?"

Her smile had wavered, Ivy realized. It seemed ill of her to not express enthusiasm for the plan. Indeed, it sounded delightful, like all of the viscountess's parties. Over the last month, Ivy had beheld so many marvelous sights, and had made the acquaintance of so many marvelous beings, all due to the generosity of Lady Crayford. Who was she to presume to comment on one of the viscountess's affairs?

"You must not think I disapprove in any way!" Ivy said, hoping her earnestness could be heard in her voice and seen upon her face. "It sounds like the most wonderful theme. It is only..."

"It is only what, Lady Quent?" Lord Eubrey said, raising an eyebrow.

Ivy hesitated, but she knew she could not withhold her thoughts now. "It is only that I wonder if it is entirely prudent to have another party so soon after the last. Sometimes I think...that is, the parties at your house are such grand affairs. Everyone is always dressed in the smartest fashions, and if a visiting royal from one of the Princ.i.p.alities was to sit at the dining table, he could hardly be displeased with anything that was served."

"I fail to see your criticism in this, Lady Quent," Colonel Daubrent said, his dark eyes intent upon her.

Ivy made herself regard him directly. "It is only that there are so many these days who want for so much-not just in the Outlands, but in the city as well. Each time I look at the broadsheet, I see stories of people who have no land or no work, and even those who want for food or shelter. Yet we ourselves have so much. It doesn't seem...that is, sometimes I fear that some ill must come of all of it."

Ivy cast her eyes down. Who was she to speak to these people so-people who had treated her in the most disinterested manner, who had given her so much while asking for nothing in return?

She felt a light touch on her cheek and looked up. Lady Crayford stood above her. There was no annoyance in her expression; rather, she wore what seemed a thoughtful smile.

"Dearest Lady Quent, this is why we adore you so. Your sensibility directs our hearts just as it does my brush. Sometimes I am so used to seeing a thing that I hardly see it at all. Yet as with these country scenes, in this matter you encourage me to regard familiar things with a novel eye."

She returned to her canvas, brush still in her hand. "I do sometimes forget how our affairs might look to those observing from the outside. Yet I ask you to consider what should happen if we, who are so fortunate, did not hold parties? If, in these troubled times, we chose austerity? Then who would the fowler offer his birds to, and how would the vintner sell his wine? You speak of those who have no work or food. Think how many more would lack these things if we who have so much chose to live in a frugal manner!"

Ivy felt her cheeks glowing. Her father had always told her to examine arguments from all sides, but in this case she had thought the matter through poorly.

The viscountess considered her painting, then made a small daub with her brush. "We must each live according to our means, Lady Quent, however great or small-not above them, but neither below. Our society functions only when we all do so."

Ivy nodded. "Sir Quent once told me much the same thing."

The viscountess turned away from her painting. "Did he? Well, your husband is a wise man, and a great defender of our country."

Lord Eubrey clapped his hands. "Excellent! You make it sound quite patriotic to have a party, Lady Crayford."

"You say it mockingly, yet I say it in all earnestness: I do not believe there could be a more patriotic thing to do!"

"In that case, I suppose as good soldiers it is our solemn duty to attend," Captain Branfort said. He looked to the viscountess's brother. "What say you, Colonel?"

Colonel Daubrent answered with a bow. "If it serves Altania, then I shall give it my all."

"Well, I will not be singled out as a traitor to my nation," Lord Eubrey said. "Thus I will attend as well. What of you, Lady Quent? Will you give your best for Altania along with the rest of us?"

So confronted, Ivy could only laugh and acquiesce. Of course she would attend the party three lumenals hence-for their sake, and for Altania's. she would attend the party three lumenals hence-for their sake, and for Altania's.

"Oh!" Ivy said, making a sudden realization. "But I'm sure that's the same day I promised Mrs. Baydon I would next visit with her."

"Then by all means you must bring her with you," Lady Crayford said.

Ivy smiled. She knew Mrs. Baydon would be delighted to have another opportunity to go to the house of the viscountess. She had adored the party there last month, and her only disappointment, she had told Ivy as they walked in Halworth Gardens some days later, was that she had not been able to endure longer than she had. After suffering so much anxiety beforehand, and then being overwhelmed with numerous wonders upon arriving, she was after a few hours utterly exhausted, and so had been forced to depart the party early.

"And do prevail upon Sir Quent to come as well," the viscountess went on. "There are many who would much like to meet him."

Ivy promised she would ask him, though she noted his business for the Crown occupied a great deal of his time these days.

With the matter of their next affair settled, everyone resumed their previous activities. Lady Crayford returned to her painting while the men partook of tobacco and continued their discussions of hunting. Ivy was content to sit in the chair, basking in the warmth of the congenial company and the afternoon sun.

Yet every now and then, when the wind was just right, she could hear the birch trees from across the field, murmuring in secret voices.