“Sign here, and here, and here,” the gaunt man was saying, one bony finger hovering over the documents.

“You know Mauthis, do you?” Orso gave a sour glance in his direction. “My leash-holder.”

“Always your humble servant, your Excellency. The Banking House of Valint and Balk agrees to this further loan for the period of one year, after which they regret they must charge interest.”

Orso snorted. “As the plague regrets the dead, I’ll be bound.” He scratched out a parting swirl on the last signature and tossed down his pen. “Everyone must kneel to someone, eh? Make sure you extend to your superiors my infinite gratitude for their indulgence.”

“I shall do so.” Mauthis collected up the documents. “That concludes our business, your Excellency. I must leave at once if I mean to catch the evening tide for Westport-”

“No. Stay a while longer. We have one other matter to discuss.”

Mauthis’ dead eyes moved towards Monza, then back to Orso. “As your Excellency desires.”

The duke rose smoothly from his desk. “To happier business, then. You do bring happy news, eh, Monzcarro?”

“I do, your Excellency.”

“Ah, whatever would I do without you?” There was a trace of iron grey in his black hair since she’d seen him last, perhaps some deeper lines at the corners of his eyes, but his air of complete command was impressive as ever. He leaned forwards and kissed her on both cheeks, then whispered in her ear, “Ganmark can lead soldiers well enough, but for a man who sucks cocks he hasn’t the slightest sense of humour. Come, tell me of your victories in the open air.” He left one arm draped around her shoulders and guided her, past the sneering Prince Ario, through the open windows onto the high terrace.