Tazencius smiled. ‘You,’ he said. Mostly silence; the only sound was Copis’s muted sobbing somewhere behind him. Everybody else in the room was either dumbstruck with horror or frozen with embarrassment. Welcome home, he thought. ‘You don’t look pleased,’ Tazencius went on, grinning affably. ‘I was sure you’d want your old job back. I was trying to be nice.’ Poldarn doubted that. On the other hand he still had the backsabre, and if he made up his mind to a straightforward, businesslike exchange of lives, he had no doubt at all that he could carve Tazencius from ear to collarbone before anybody could stop him. He was surprised at how little he wanted to do that, all things considered. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. Gentle murmuring from the Amathy house contingent, who clearly weren’t impressed. Tazencius raised his voice over the sound and went on, ‘Years ago the Amathy house realised that its most valuable asset was the prestige – not the right choice of words but you know what I mean – of the name Feron Amathy.
