Jianna stared at the floor.

"That first kick was scarcely a nudge. The next one takes out your front teeth," Yvenza remarked conversationally. "A pity to spoil such pretty pearly whites, but I'll force myself."

"She's mine, I'll handle it. With a good leather strap," Onartino offered.

"Shut up, boy."

"Maidenlady," the doctor appealed, and his voice owned the power to draw her eyes from the floor to his face. "It is best by far to answer the magnifica's questions and to tell her the truth. For your own sake, believe this."

She did believe it. Yvenza would not kill her at present, but the woman was certainly willing and able to inflict serious injury. And what good would it do to escape and return to Belandor House, maimed for life? In such circumstances as these, Aureste Belandor would surely counsel compliance or at least the appearance thereof. Tossing the hair back from her face, Jianna shifted her gaze to Yvenza's eyes and answered coldly, "Very well. I drugged the dog with a sleeping potion."

"Kalkriole?"

"Yes."

"How did you get him to drink it?"

"I gave him doctored food pellets."

" 'She ... likes cheese.' " Yvenza nodded to herself. "And then, when he was helpless, you picked up a rock and beat him to death."

"Then, when he was helpless, I ran for the woods." Jianna arose with care. Her jaw and her midsection ached; her ankle throbbed. "If you won't credit me with common decency, at least credit me with common sense. When I had the chance to get away, and every second counted, do you really think that I'd have tarried to beat an unconscious dog? Within a few yards of the household sentry, whose attention might easily have been caught by the sound of the blows? I'm not that stupid. As for the escape attempt itself, you can punish me if you will, but you can scarcely blame me. If you were in my position, Yvenza Belandor, you'd have done exactly the same."

They were all staring at her and Jianna wondered if she would be struck to the floor again or worse. At last, Yvenza inquired, with a certain sinister mildness, "And if you did not kill Grumper yourself, then whom do you accuse?"

Your murderous brute of a son, most likely. Jianna's eyes jumped to Onartino's face, which was empty and blank as unused paper. He probably lost his filthy temper. Aloud she replied, "I wasn't there, I didn't see. I accuse no one."

"Not directly, at any rate." For a glittering instant Yvenza's eyes shifted to Onartino. He sustained the scrutiny unmoved, and her attention returned to Jianna. "Let us give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you tell the truth. Indeed, I suspect that you do. There remains the matter of your flight. The attempted desertion of your own betrothed, my poor devoted son. Did you mean to break his sensitive heart? We must see to it that such an act of cruelty is never repeated. My own thoughts lean toward your permanent disablement. Would that do the trick, I wonder? What do you think, niece?"

My father will tear the flesh off your bones if you hurt me. The threat rose automatically to her lips, but she held it in, for Aureste Belandor's name, a formidable charm throughout her life, held no power here.

"Look at those eyes," Yvenza suggested with a smile. "Her father's eyes, to the life. Notice the fire there. She'd burn me to cinders with those eyes-if only she could. In the interest of self-preservation, we'd best extinguish that blaze."

"Don't do anything to make her ugly, or I won't have her," Onartino warned.

"You'll have her with her face turned inside out, if you're told to," Yvenza informed him. "But now that you mention it, I perceive the difficulty. You are required to sire an heir upon this girl, and it wouldn't do to demand performance beyond your capabilities, my son. Very well, we shall not mar her beauty-today, at any rate. How best to damp a fire, then?" Yvenza affected to ponder. "Water usually serves. Yes. Our little runaway shall spend the next week cooling her heels in the subcellar, where the water on the floor rarely exceeds an inch in depth, except when the cesspit overflows."

"I'm not afraid of your subcellar." Jianna lifted her chin. She knew that she ought to hold her tongue, but could not. "As for the cesspit, I feel that I've been living in one since the day I was brought here."

"Take care, maidenlady." Yvenza's face was unreadable. "I find myself in danger of coming to like you." She turned to her son. "Onartino, ring for someone to take her down below. And don't let me hear you offer to do it yourself."

"Magnifica, this won't do." The doctor spoke up with great courtesy and great firmness. "The maidenlady has been injured, soaked, and chilled. She must not suffer further abuse."

"Did you say 'must not' to me, Falaste?" Yvenza inquired gently.

"I speak as a physician. I trust you don't mean to kill her?"

"Correct."

"Then keep her out of that death trap of a subcellar or she'll take a fever within hours. Be certain of that."

"You seem much concerned for her welfare. Do you know who and what she is?"

"I do."

"Then you must also know that she won't escape punishment."

"Allow me to offer a suggestion. Punish her by setting her to work in the infirmary for the next week. I can use the assistance."

"Nonsense. That is a holiday."

"I don't speak of ladling soup and rolling bandages. She would do the real work-emptying bedpans, mopping up the vomit, changing soiled dressings, bathing infected wounds-all of it. For a gently reared young woman, that will be punishment indeed. And it would be of great help to me."

"If it's help you need or want, then you're welcome to borrow the servant of your choice. Any or all of them will prove more useful to you than this reluctant princess here. She'll take her lessons in the subcellar, and if she should happen to contract an ague, it will serve to drive the point home."

"Magnifica, indulge me," the doctor persisted. "I ask you in the name of my loyalty to grant me this personal favor."

"Do you, lad?" Yvenza hesitated. "Ah, you know me too well. When you ask so, I can't deny you. Very well, you may take charge of the girl, but mind you work her hard. She is not to enjoy it."

"I don't think it likely that she will."

"Then she's yours for the duration of your stay." Turning to Jianna, Yvenza observed, "Within the confines of the infirmary, you will obey Dr. Rione's commands without question or argument. You understand me?"

Jianna inclined her head, too relieved by her avoidance of the subcellar to resent this newest form of servitude. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Onartino's face, which for once had lost its impassivity. He was eyeing the doctor with a look of sullen antipathy.

One of the cold drafts of Ironheart swept the hall, raising gooseflesh beneath her sodden garments. Jianna shivered. Her teeth started to chatter and she clamped her jaw, but saw that her reaction had not gone unnoticed by Dr. Rione.

"Magnifica, I've reconsidered," announced the doctor. "I'll have that meal after all. Is there soup in the kitchen?"

"There is always soup in the kitchen."

"Lentil onion?"

"See for yourself. After you've eaten and attended to your patients, come to me and we will talk."

"I'll look forward to that, Magnifica."

He looked and sounded as if he meant it, Jianna noted with wonder. And Yvenza's maternal smile had reappeared.

"Maidenlady, come with me." The doctor's courteous tone turned the command into a request.

She obeyed willingly, glad to remove herself from the dangerous vicinity of the matriarch. Onartino's gaze pressed her as she went. Through the galleries she followed Falaste to the kitchen, where a clutch of servants greeted him warmly. The doctor seemed a near-universal favorite. Jianna watched with interest as he returned the greetings in kind. As he spoke, he stripped off his hooded rain cloak, tossing it casually across the back of a chair. She saw then that his thick hair was a very dark brown, almost the same color as her own. His lean frame was plainly clad in serviceable garments.

"Good to see you again, boy ..."

"What's happening with the Ghosts?"

"Did you see 'em crunch any Taers?"

"Did you bring any ferret feet?"

"Welcome home, lad."

"Thanks. Here's your feet, Skreps." The doctor handed a small bundle to one of the potboys. "Try to make them last."

"You're the flashfire, Rione!"

"Tell that to Celisse and make her believe it." The doctor, evidently quite at ease, picked up a chair, placed it beside the fireplace, and turned to Jianna. "Sit here, maidenlady. Rest, warm yourself, and dry your clothing as well as you can. You'll have little leisure for it later on."

Again she obeyed willingly, removing her wet cloak and spreading it on the hearth, placing her wet shoes and stockings beside it, stretching her icy hands and feet toward the fire. The heat sent the blood coursing through her veins. Her fingers and toes tingled agreeably. An involuntary sigh escaped her and she let her eyes close. For a while she sat motionless, allowing the warmth to work its way clear through her. Her thoughts slowed and her mind emptied itself; she might even have fallen asleep for a moment or two.

The aroma of food recalled her to consciousness. She opened her eyes upon a bowl of thick soup and a heel of bread wordlessly proffered by the doctor.

"Thank you." She took the food. He started to turn away and Jianna, seized with some inexplicable urge to hold him a little longer, inquired inconsequentially, "Who is Celisse?" Wife? she wondered. Sweetheart?

"My sister."

"Older or younger?"

"Younger."

"She's not here at Ironheart?"

"Not these past three years."

"Everyone here welcomes you home. But you and your sister aren't-kin to the Belandors?" she probed. Related to Yvenza? Or by-blows like Nissi?

"No."

She paused, expecting an explanation, but none was offered. The doctor was civil enough but distinctly reserved, and if she pressed him further the conversation would assume the aspect of an interrogation. She nodded and began to spoon her soup. Falaste Rione took a seat at the kitchen table among the servants, with whom he ate and chatted on a basis of apparent equality.

She herself had never taken a meal at table with a menial, not even with Reeni, of whom she had been genuinely fond. The idea would simply not have occurred to her.

Was he a servant himself, then-some sort of privileged, upper-level servant? Surely not; not with that educated speech of his, the excellent quality of his manners, and the medical knowledge. Something in between?

The food was good and filling. As Jianna ate, her energy and optimism returned. The warmth of the fire was likewise comforting. Her skirts were starting to dry. She could gladly have stayed there eating soup and covertly studying the doctor for hours. All too soon, however, he rose from the table and approached her to announce, "Maidenlady, it is time to set to work. There is much to do."

Aureste Belandor sat at his desk, blind eyes fixed on the oft-blotted paper sheet before him. For the past half hour he had striven to pen a reply to the Magnifico Tribari's very courteous inquiry concerning the Maidenlady Jianna Belandor's delayed arrival, but the right words eluded him. The right words did not exist. For the moment he had given up trying, and his mind wandered the wooded slopes of the Alzira Hills.

The thump of a knock on the study door roused him from his reverie. Aureste blinked. "Come," he said.

The door opened and a Sishmindri head poked in.

"Woman," announced the amphibian.

"Woman? What woman?"

"No name."

"Throw her out. Don't trouble me again with such nonsense, or you will be whipped."

Incredibly, the Sishmindri ventured a reply. "You say, let this one in, else be whipped."

"Ah. That one. Why didn't you say so? Admit her."

The Sishmindri's head withdrew and then a familiar figure wrapped in a cloak of grey-brown frieze stepped over the threshold. Aureste eyed her without interest. "Well, Brivvia," he said. "Come forward. You may seat yourself."

"Thank you, Honored Magnifico." The Magnifica Corvestri's maid obeyed, perching gingerly on the edge of the same chair she had occupied upon the occasion of her previous interview. "Thank you, sir."

"What have you to tell me?" He made an effort to fix his attention on her.

"Well, firstly that I'm sorry, Honored Magnifico, truly I am, very sorry indeed, sir, and I hope you can forgive me."

"For what?" His interest remained minimal.

"For taking so long about it. You wanted quick action, you made that plain. But I must say it took some doing. There's usually guards or servants hanging about the corridor, and then there's a whopper of a padlock on the door. Getting past all of that was quite a trick, I can tell you."

Aureste's mind still sought the Alzira Hills. He controlled its wandering impulse with difficulty. What was the woman jabbering about? He had issued her orders, not long ago, although it now seemed vastly distant. She was to serve as his agent in Corvestri Mansion. It had all seemed important at the time.

"Well, I did it," Brivvia announced with a certain air of triumphant shame. "I got in."

"In?"

"The master's workroom. And truly, 'twasn't at all what I expected. I thought there'd be dead bodies all cut up and laid out on tables. And hearts and hands and heads and bowels scattered all over. And crystals sending out magic rays that would turn me into a sheep. But there wasn't none of that. It was just a room, an untidy room at that, stuffed with all kinds of trash, but nothing that scared me. Why, it was only-"

"Brevity, woman."

"Yessir. I searched, very thorough like you told me, and found nothing of no use to you. But I did the other things, Honored Magnifico," she added placatingly. "And they went off all right."

"Other things?" His mind slipped gears. For a moment he did not know what she was talking about.

"That little packet you gave me. I've tacked it to the bottom of the top drawer of the master's desk." She paused, evidently expecting congratulations.

"Oh. Yes." The exquisitely forged letters establishing Vinz Corvestri's connection with the Faerlonnish resistance movement were now in place, awaiting discovery by the first remotely competent investigator authorized to search Corvestri Mansion. Aureste found that he did not care in the slightest.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it, Honored Magnifico?" She was regarding him with a puzzled frown.

"It was."

"Went clear against my better nature, it did, but I followed your orders, sir. I'm not lying about this, either." No reply was forthcoming and she added, "I followed all your orders, if you get my drift."

"Then I am satisfied."

She seemed to expect additional commentary or inquiry. Her frown deepened, and at last she prompted cautiously, "Well then, sir-would you like to see it, then?"

"It? What are you talking about?" His patience was beginning to fray, and he wanted to be rid of her.