the death-sickness and “recovered.”
“I do not know how you found the courage to kill them,” Mahieran said softly, looking down. “I am not sure I could have, in your place.”
Dorrin felt tears burning her eyes again. “My lord—I cannot say—only that the real children—the child they had been—had already died and this was a usurper. I fixed my mind on that, but it was not easy.”
“I imagine not, even for a seasoned soldier like yourself.” Mahieran paused, then went on. “Do you know, I think you may have more military experience than any other peer—at least until Phelan’s other captain, Arcolin, comes to be confirmed at the Autumn Court.”
Dorrin’s heart rose. “Will he, then? I am glad to hear it. He’s a fine man, Jandelir Arcolin.”
“Surely you knew—”
“That he was given temporary authority, yes, but not that he would be confirmed in the grant.”
“It is the king’s decision, with the Council’s advice—and we are now the Council.” A murmur of agreement from around the table. “I favor it myself, though whether he should be made duke at once—”
“It’s a big step, from captain to duke,” one of the barons said, looking at Dorrin. Brenvor, she remembered after a moment. “What do you think?” His voice was challenging.
“Me?” Dorrin had not expected to be asked. “Arcolin has more years with the Company than I, and he was Kieri’s senior captain all those years. He’s served as his agent with all his business; he knows it thoroughly. If not a duke, what would you?”
“Count, perhaps,” Brenvor said. “Even I can see the domain—andthe Pargunese danger—needs a higher rank than baron to head it. But I’d like to see proof he can meet the challenge, before we grant the higher title.”
Dorrin wondered what challenges Baron Brenvor had ever met, but knew she was being unfair. They had seen Arcolin only as a loyal subordinate, not in command.
“But as to the danger of those hidden Verrakaien,” the king said. “Duke Verrakai, do you know any way to identify them, other than your own powers?”
“No, Sir King.”
“Can you sense them from a distance without seeing them?”
“No, Sir King, I cannot.”
“Then I must ask you to stay in Vérella until you have examined the entire staff and all peers.” He held up his hand to still indignant murmurs. “My lords, I do not suspect any of you—I know you to have been loyal for years—but so was the groom whose body was taken over. Unless Duke Verrakai has some other way of detecting the threat, we must one by one pass examination.”
“Not you, Sir King,” Dorrin said. “Nor any in this room or at the coronation banquet last night. For those I am sure are not taken over.”
“Are you, indeed? Then it is Gird’s mercy, I say, that so much has been accomplished.” The Marshal-Judicar’s voice held a slight note of mockery.
“But, Sir King,” Dorrin said, ignoring the Marshal-Judicar for the moment, “I do think those Verrakai in custody awaiting trial or sentenced to prison must be killed unless I can assure you they have not been taken over. Confinement does not lessen their powers, as yesterday’s events prove. Any still alive could attempt a transfer—to a guard, to a servant bringing food—and might be successful. I know you do not want to kill the children—or what seem children.”
“You’re talking of a summary judgment on the basis of your examination? Without a trial?” the Marshal-Judicar asked. He sounded angry. “That’s against the Code—everyone has a right to a trial.”
“A speedy trial,” Serrostin said. “We cannot risk anything long enough to allow them to change bodies. And think of the harm to the person whose body they take.”
“I take your meaning.” The king looked sad. “My brother’s bestfriend is a Verrakai—was a page here, now in prison—and Camwyn’s sure he’s innocent. He keeps asking to visit him.”
“He must not,”
Learning to Kill: Stories