“I said—”

“Your highness spoke clearly,” Mradvior broke in. “These men, the foreigner especially,” he said, pointing at Sulein, who looked at Gavril in silent appeal, “are superfluous. So says the king’s orders.”

“I don’t believe you. There are no such orders.”

Quiet fell over the room. Mradvior scowled. “Take care, young prince, that you do not insult me again. You are not among friends.”

Gavril narrowed his eyes. A fire was burning in his temples, stabbing sharp little jabs into his brain.

“Your dogs are destined for the cook pots,” Mradvior announced. “Your knights and servants can be sold into bondage at good prices.” “You do not dare!” Gavril said furiously. “By the laws of—” “Laws?” Mradvior broke in with a laugh. “They are for the weak and feeble-minded.”

“You’re a thief, Mradvior!” Gavril said. “A thief and a barbarian!” Pursing his lips, the count turned away. Noncire’s gaze flicked desperately to Gavril. “Placate him,” he murmured. “Use honey, not a wasp sting. Win back his friendship.”

“Be silent,” Gavril snapped, but despite his annoyance he tried to take Noncire’s advice. “Lord Mradvior, reconsider. I have money. I shall pay you well to keep the guardians in place.”

“And me, your highness,” Noncire murmured beneath his breath. “Will you pay him to keep me here as well?”

But Mradvior was laughing with both contempt and mockery. “Your highness forgets something important.”

“What is that?” Gavril asked haughtily.

“Your money and fine possessions have already been confiscated. Besides, even you did not bring enough gold to pay bribes for all your knights and servants.” “I—” Gavril left his sentence unspoken. He could not believe Mradvior intended to send the church knights to Gant as well. Once they were taken away, would he have anyone left with him except a dying girl? Fear washed over him, rendering him mute.

At Mradvior’s gesture, two guards gripped Noncire by his fat arms. He struggled against them.

“No!” he shouted. “No! Lord Mradvior, I have a private fortune. It can be yours if you will spare me.”

“Gladly would I take your gold,” Mradvior replied, “but I do not disobey the king.”

“But an arrangement can be made,” Noncire said, making a grotesque attempt to smile. “Surely we can reach—” With Noncire struggling all the way, the guards forced him to the door.  “Please!” he called out, throwing aside all dignity to beg. “Prince Gavril, have pity and help me. Don’t let them send me to Gant to die.” “Surely your faith will sustain you,” Gavril replied.

The cardinal stared at him in disbelief. “What have you become?” he asked.

The guards pushed him from the room. The door slammed, and he was gone.  “My lord count,” Gavril said with a sigh, “let us come to fresh terms. I feel we should discuss—” “Discussion is over.” Mradvior paused next to a table to caress a small box of exquisite wood sitting on top of it. “Your belongings should be packed by now.” “I refuse to go,” Gavril said, tossing his head. “I refuse to live in a ruin.