A simpler time, though he didn't realize it then. For the boys and girls of the Cohort, everything seemed possible. The way was open, limited only by nerve and wit. Any of them could achieve the greatest prize of becoming Cern's consort and fathering royal heirs.

So they studied, fought, and fucked. They vied for leverage and influence, intending to need it in the years to come. Whatever the future held, one thing seemed certain: they would be spending the rest of their lives working together, Cohort brothers and sisters, scions of the Houses.

Of course, it had not turned out that way. Some sibs had died being stupid, others through bad luck. But most held steady and survived, even thrived.

Like the mutt brothers. They seemed inextinguishable, tenacious survivors, with a streak of luck that stretched past the horizon. Then, one day, out of the blue, Innel took his brother Pohut out of the game entirely, saving them all the trouble. Leaving only Innel.

Who was now gone, hard as it was to believe. Disgraced, fallen, and executed. Tokerae and Ella had managed to accomplish what had seemed impossible: get rid of the mutt for good.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Key in-palace contacts made alert and ready," Tokerae said.

"Money to Garaya," Ella said, "to seal the agreement."

He nodded. "Garaya."

When enough coin was involved, the Garayan council was impressively flexible about their loyalties. Toss in the possibility of forgiveness and good standing, and they were eager to cooperate with Etallan.

"We must begin moving the rest of our forces from the provinces," Ella said.

This was where it all got tricky and expensive. Tokerae considered the money played out across decades to assemble, train, house, feed, and hide these private and illegal soldiers, then to pay Helata to transport them. It really was an impressive amount.

"Are you certain?" Tokerae asked softly.

"Months," Ella said with feeling. "We are mere months from being ready, if we put all into motion."

"Our eparch-mother disagrees about the wisdom of this timing."

"Then we act without her."

Tokerae shook his head. "We don't have enough money, and no one gives that kind of credit, even to the presumptive eparch-heir of Etallan."

Her gaze swept the grounds before them. "How long can she hold the eparchy, do you think?"

Tokerae shrugged. "Kincel's eparch is nearing ninety. Mother has a ways to go yet."

Ella gave a frustrated exhale. "Everything is ready. It must be this year. It cannot be later."

Tokerae held his hands wide, indicating helplessness. "We can't do it without the funds of the House."

"Everything must end, sooner or later," Ella said, turning an intent look on him. "Let's make it sooner."

He turned to face her. "What are you saying?"

"The mage. Hired for wisdom, he said. Go ask him for some." Her look turned fierce. "What have we got to lose?"

He snorted at the thought of his mother's reaction should the mage relate that particular conversation. "We have everything to lose."

"Well, brother, so does she."

"She'd name another heir," he said quietly, speaking his fear.

"Who? A cousin? Their spawn? You know she wouldn't. It's me or you." Ella shrugged. "Let her give it to me, if she's in a snit. I'll take it, then abdicate to you. I've given you my word on that. My word, Tok."

Tokerae turned to stare out at the distant harbor, hoping to hide the welling emotion he felt at this reassurance. He gave a single, short nod.

His sister put a hand on his arm. "Brother, listen: we must act. Our House's reputation weakens daily, while mother sits idle, arms tight around herself, like a frightened child."

"Is it that simple, do you think? Is she not possessed of some... prudent, elder wisdom?"

Ella smirked, shook her head. "It's the fear that her decline brings, the frailty of shortening years, and nothing more. She should be sitting by a warm stove, with sweet, hot wine, to enjoy her remaining years instead of standing in our way."

Tokerae said nothing.

"We know what is possible, you and I," Ella continued. "We have the fire and metal inside to forge Etallan's future. All mother has is fading embers."

"She seems full of vigor, for all that," he said bitterly.

"Ask the mage," Ella repeated. "Unless you're afraid of him?" The taunt was simple and obvious. She gave him an amused, affectionate smile to soften it.

"We've had nothing useful from the arrogant, condescending creature. Not even a clever Rochi card trick."

"Ask him."

Undul Etris Tay had explained all of the ways that he could not help them. Then he ate their best food, consumed expensive twunta, and wandered Etallan at all hours, like a curious, undisciplined child. The elder cousin trailed along, but kept losing him. Ella and Tokerae were forced to send another family member as well, while at the same time trying to pretend that this stranger who could somehow walk into any room was unimportant. Certainly was not a mage.

One day, the Forge Master had come to Tokerae.

"Ser. Your guest? Using rare and expensive metals. Gonna burn himself," the Master said. "Or someone else."

"Let him," Tokerae had told the Forge Master. What choice did they have? "I don't care if he burns himself. Keep everyone else well back. Just in case."

Tokerae could easily imagine the mage destroying the forge entirely, then walking out, unscathed, to ask about dinner. It was unnerving to have the mage wandering House Etallan; they wondered what he might stumble across or find that they would prefer hidden, but at least they knew where he was.

Then, suddenly, they didn't. The mage was gone from sight, leaving those tasked with following him in a panic.

But he showed up for the evening meal.

Undul Etris Tay was either the best swindler to ever stumble over Etallan's threshold, or he was the most dangerous threat the House had ever faced.

Either way, could he help them with the problem of their mother?

"Ask him," Ella said for a third time.

Tokerae nodded. "If I can find him."