“Yes,” Thum said, blinking hard. “I give you my—”

“Don’t give me your word!” Gavril shouted, and Thum flinched again. “You are neither noble nor knight. You are nothing! Your word is nothing.” Red surged into Thum’s face, and his mouth tightened. He dropped his gaze quickly, but not before Gavril saw the fury that flared in his eyes.  Gavril raked him with a contemptuous glance. “No land will you inherit. You will be a common knight in another man’s service. In a year I will be named Heir to the Realm. I am as far above you as are the stars above this land. That I have deigned to reside here and be trained in your proximity grants you no favor, no right to familiarity. Your family should have taught you better, for if they believe you will gain them more boons at court, you have destroyed those hopes.” Thum kept his gaze on the floor. He was stiff, barely breathing. He said nothing.

Gavril let the silence hang between them before he said, “There is a way for you to redeem yourself.”

Thum’s gaze flashed up. “What way?” he asked.

He should have promised to do anything, not question the terms, Gavril thought, frowning at him. “Come to my quarters.”

Silence held them until they reached the top of the west tower and entered Gavril’s chamber, where the fire cast welcome warmth and candles burned despite the last bell. In the bedchamber beyond, Gavril glimpsed his bed, piled with pillows swathed in clean linen, the heavy fur robe turned back. Aoun was standing beside the bed, holding a pole with a heated warmer on the end of it beneath the covers to warm the sheets.

Sighing, Gavril threw out his arms in a stretch and unbuckled his belt. Tossing his poniard onto his writing desk, he pulled off his cap and loosened the laces of his doublet before he turned around to face Thum, who was watching him with a tense, white face.

“What must I do?” Thum asked.

Gavril yawned, playing him the way a cat torments a mouse. “There is a map of Nold within Lord Odfrey’s wardroom. Large. About this size.” He held his hands apart. “Drawn on parchment. It’s on the chevard’s desk. I want that map. You will bring it to me.”

Thum frowned. “You mean you wish me to ask Lord Odfrey if you may look at it?” “No. I want the map. When Lord Odfrey is away, you will enter his wardroom and take the map.”

“That’s stealing!”

“Is it?” Gavril glanced around and saw his jeweled cup waiting for him on the table. He picked it up, swirled the contents a moment, and drank.  “You want me to steal from the chevard?”

“Stop asking stupid questions. I want you to give me that map of Nold. It’s quite detailed. I need it.”