D’Ivary’s voice quavered. “B-but . . . I can fix things. I’ll help them.”

“Too late for that,” Lord Adolind said.

He had welcomed the refugees into his lands, Laren knew, and well understood the hardships they faced on the borders. She had watched the disbelief on his face as he listened to the horrors the witnesses had fled from.

“Is there anyone here,” Zachary asked, “who doubts Lord D’Ivary’s guilt?”

Lord Oldbury seemed to struggle within himself, but did not voice dissent.

“Very well,” Zachary said.

“Please,” D’Ivary said, “please have mercy. I’ve a family.”

“Having a family did not prevent what you did to the refugees,” Lord Coutre said.

D’Ivary, his color ghastly, stared at the tabletop.

Zachary folded his hands before him. “Usually it is my decision as to how justice should be meted out. This time, however, I wish to defer that decision.”

Upon his word, one of the border folk was brought in. Laren recognized him. Lynx had brought him in that day to report the atrocities in D’Ivary Province.

“This is Durgan Atkins,” Zachary said. “He lost much due to Lord D’Ivary’s actions. I have asked him to confer with his people and come up with an appropriate punishment.”

D’Ivary suddenly lost control and sobbed. No one offered him their pity. No doubt he had thought his worst punishment would be some sort of comfortable confinement suited to his station, but instead he would face the enmity and revenge of the very people he had hurt.

Laren had to applaud Zachary. Certainly his lords would see the justice in the border folk deciding the punishment. By removing the burden from himself, Zachary did not have to make a decision the lord-governors could use against him at some later time.

“Your decision?” Zachary asked Atkins.

“We’ve talked long and hard. We’d like D’Ivary stripped of his lands, wealth, rank, and title. And we want him exiled.”

D’Ivary loosed a sigh of relief. There would be no execution, and banishment wasn’t always so bad.

“To where would you have him exiled?” Zachary asked.

Atkins turned and glared at D’Ivary. “To the northern border, with only the clothes on his back and a day’s rations. We’ll see to it he doesn’t sneak back south.”

“Done,” Zachary said.

D’Ivary let out a heart-rending cry, but soldiers entered to haul him away. Laren wanted to wilt in relief that the whole affair was over. Zachary had done well. Better than well, in her estimation. The lord-governors looked relieved themselves.

No major plays for power, she thought. But it didn’t mean there wasn’t more to come.

“Shall we continue with business?” Zachary asked.

The resurgence of magic was discussed at length, Zachary alluding now and then to a conversation he and Laren had had with Karigan about events that took place down at the wall. Laren recalled how they met with her only after Destarion had given his leave. Karigan, though weak and easily fatigued, insisted they meet someplace other than the mending wing, of which she was heartily weary. The king recommended his sunshine-filled study, and Karigan made her painstaking way through castle corridors, batting away poor Ben’s assistance.

The account she gave them of conveying Mornhavon to the future naturally astonished them, and when she revealed she had no way of knowing how far he’d been taken, they set to planning immediately. Laren and Zachary did, anyway. Overcome by fatigue, Karigan had fallen asleep in her chair. When Laren rose to send for Ben, Zachary urged her to let the slumbering Rider be, and produced a throw to drape on Karigan’s lap. They then resumed their strategizing session with Karigan’s light snoring in the background.

In discussing with the lord-governors how the power of Blackveil had been thwarted, Zachary skirted the issue of the Green Riders’ use of magic. It would not do to release too much information about the special abilities of his Riders. Doing so would undermine his ability to seek information, and possibly endanger them. Few would trust them.

Instead of focusing on what had happened, he turned to preparations for the threat to come.

The meeting went on for some time, with no clear course of action in the offing. Zachary ended the meeting on a positive note, with the confirmation ceremony of young Hendry Penburn to the rank of lord-governor. The pomp and ritual seemed to quell any ill residue left over from the D’Ivary proceedings.

Finally, Zachary dismissed the lord-governors for a well-deserved feast. As they filed out, he asked Lord Coutre to hold back.

He said, “I thank you for judging D’Ivary on the merits of his case, and not basing your decision on whether or not I had agreed to some contract.”

The scowl emerged on Coutre’s face again. “Let us just say D’Ivary’s guilt spoke for itself. The ingrate deserves what he got. And don’t think I was doing you any favor.”

“Of course not,” Zachary said, his tone cool but respectful. “I am glad you are frank with me, my lord, for I shall always know where you stand.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Indeed.”

What was Zachary playing at now? Laren wondered in alarm. Angering Lord Coutre wasn’t going to prove anything.

Zachary removed some rolled documents from beneath his mantle of state. “I have here a contract of marriage to which I am tentatively agreeing, with some amendments, of course.”