"Join me when you have concluded your business here, Sandry," the duke told her. To the messenger he said, "Come along." He rode off, the boy and the squad of guards at his heels. A barrel-chested man who sported a sergeant's twin yellow arrowheads on his sleeve caught Sandry's eye and nodded to her before he followed the duke.

Pasco watched them go, thinking of what he'd over heard, murder at Rokat House was a serious matter. He crossed his fingers and flicked them at the departing riders, sending luck for Uncle Isman in their wake. He would need all the luck he could get, particularly once Summersea's rich folk heard of the death of one of their own.

Sandry looked at Pasco thoughtfully as her uncle rode off. There were no two ways about it—something would have to be done with this boy. Untrained magic broke out in uncontrollable ways and could do consider able damage. She'd had that lesson drummed into her head over the past four years. From the glow of magic she'd seen as Pasco danced, his power wasn't such that it might flare up without warning, but that could change at any moment.

Sandry was no stranger to the ways of charming clever boys. This one would bolt the moment he thought he could do so without offending a noble, and he wouldn't come back unless she did something to make him. Besides, she had the duke to think of. She did not want him putting his hard-won health in danger again, not on his first day outside Duke's Citadel.

"Murder at Rokat House," Pasco murmured. "That's got a jagged edge to it." How would Papa look into it? he wondered. Who might have done such a crime? There were all kinds of possibilities, as he knew from listening to the harriers in the family talk about their work. There were all sorts of angles to consider.