And in time, he hoped, Ilsabet would abandon her efforts at revenge.

Baron Peto was a benevolent ruler, but Marishka was pleased to see he was no fool. A dozen of his most trusted guards rode behind them, and she and the baron were flanked by four of his best archers. Nonetheless, as they neared the town, Peto must have sensed how anxious she'd grown because he reached over and patted her hand. "It's all right," he said. "We're not the enemy here."

Maybe he wasn't, but she couldn't claim the same.

Pirie, a town of six hundred, was the only large settlement in the vicinity of Nimbus Castle. Located on the Arvid, it relied on fishing, shipping, and farming to survive. Its well-tended wharfs were the largest on the river, and the inn and rooming house offered shelter to travelers on road and river alike.

As they neared town, Marishka saw rebel banners still defiantly flying from some tile rooftops, and belatedly realized that her dress was the same color. She also noticed that there was a crowd on the wharf and that it seemed to be growing larger as they approached.

She turned to Peto, intending to say some word of warning, but didn't have to. His relaxed disposition had vanished. He sat stiffly in the saddle, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The men around her adopted his manner. They were prepared for the worst, but seemed committed to going forward to meet the crowd.

When they reached the wharf, two of the villagers came forward. One had a wound on his cheek. The cut was red, the flesh around it inflamed. After his treatment by the castle healers, Peto could not understand why he looked so angry.

"It's good to see you still on your feet," Peto said.

"It's good that I am," Imre responded. He moved closer and added in a low tone. "I've been trying to calm everyone down, but they're convinced the rats that attacked us were poisoned."