"Look at what they've got you up in!" he said approvingly. "But stand up straight, girl, and wear it as though you mean it!"

Briony smiled in spite of herself. "I've lost the knack, I guess."

The reprobate Nevin Hewney was eyeing her as well, frowning in wonderment. "By the gods, they told the truth. To think-had I but tried a little harder, I could have knobbed a princess!"

Estir Makewell gasped. Her brother Pedder fell off the bench and two guards lowered their halberds in case this might be the start of some general uprising. "Blessed Zoria save us!" Estir cried hoarsely, staring at the fierce blades. "Hewney, you fool, you will have us all on the headsman's block!"

Briony could not help being a little amused, but did not feel she could afford to show too much familiarity in front of the guards and Jino. "Be assured that should I take offense," she said, "it is only Hewney who would pay the price for his ungovernable tongue." She fixed the playwright with a stern gaze. "And were I to read out the bill of particulars against him I might start with the time he referred to myself and my brother as 'twin whelps sired by Stupidity on the bitch Privilege.' Or perhaps the time he referred to my imprisoned father as 'Ludis Drakava's royal bum-toy.' I think either of those would suffice to put the headsman to work."

Nevin Hewney groaned, a touch too loud to be convincingly repentant-the man was either almost fearless or stupefied by years of drink. "Do you see? " he demanded of his comrades. "That is what comes of youth and sobriety. Her memory is horrifyingly sharp. What a curse-never to forget even the slightest bit of foolishness. Your Highness, you have my pity!"