"Oh, shut up, Hewney," said Briony. "I'm not going to hold you responsible for things you said when you didn't know who I was, but you're not half as charming or clever as you think you are."

"Thank you, Highness." The playwright and actor sketched a bow. "For, since I think quite highly of myself, that still leaves me with a formidable weight of charm."

Briony could only shake her head. She turned to Dowan, the soft-spoken giant for whom she had a particular fondness. "In truth, I've just come to say goodbye. I'll do my best to get them to let Finn go quickly."

"Is it really true, then? " he asked. "Are you really… who they say you are, Mistress? Highness?"

"I'm afraid so," she told him. "I did not wish to lie to you, but I feared for my life. I'll never forget the kindness with which you treated me." She turned to the others and even found a smile for Estir. "All of you. Yes, even Master Nevin, although in his case it was interspersed with lechery and his unending love for the music of his own voice."

"Hah!" Pedder Makewell was sitting up again, feeling better. "She has scored another hit on you, Hewney."

"I care not," said the playwright airily. "For the mistress of all Southmarch has proclaimed I am half of the most charming man in the world."

"But I am not the mistress of all Southmarch." Briony looked over to Erasmias Jino, who had been watching the entire performance with a polite smile on his face, like a theatergoer who had seen better work only the night before. "And that is why you must not go back there-not yet." She turned to the Syannese nobleman. "News of my presence here will reach Southmarch, will it not?"

He shrugged. "We will not keep it secret-we are not at war with your country, princess. In fact, we are told that Tolly only protects the throne against the return of your father… or, presumably, you."

"That's a lie! He tried to kill me."