"A bit" turned out to be nearly an hour, but when Bensen arrived, by way of apology for the long wait he had brought not just the stew and bread the Court had eaten, but a soft sweet dumpling and a bowl of raisins as well. He had given her a generous helping of the stew; Alyn fell on it, only then realising how hungry she was. He didn't wait for her to finish, but started talking almost immediately.

"Sorry to take so long, but they needed help with one of the ovens. Are you ready to listen?" She nodded, mouth full of stew. "Right. So Lord Cassian's heir is Lord Isidor, the son of Lord Vitalis." At Alyn's blank look, he hurried to explain. "That's Lord Cassian's younger brother, who died five years ago of the flux. Anyway, Lord Isidor's in with the Niethian crowd, if you know what I mean?" Alyn didn't, but didn't say so, partly because her mouth was full again. "I don't know much about it, although Fifth Star Court's always been loyal, of course! But he needed money, and I heard him shouting at Lord Cassian just five days ago." He paused, looking important.

"What was he shouting about?" Alyn prompted him, between mouthfuls.

"He said he needed money, and Lord Cassian said he wouldn't give him any. Isn't that a motive?"

"I suppose so," Alyn said dubiously. "Why did he need the money?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"Oh yes, sorry. Um, but if he needed the money and Lord Cassian had it, why wouldn't he just kill him instead?"

"I thought about that," Bensen sounded excited. "See, it's a terrible crime to kill a lord and it'd be really obvious if he did that anyway. But if he murdered the scribe and tried to make it look like Lord Cassian did it - well, Lord Cassian'd be disgraced, wouldn't he? And Lord Isidor would inherit right away!"

Alyn thought it was a bit far-fetched, but didn't want to say that, so she tried to look thoughtful and impressed while she finished the sweet dumpling. Bensen reached for the raisins he had brought her, and she shoved the bowl away with one arm.

"You brought them for me," she said indignantly.

"Oh come on, I just gave you a really good lead!"

"You can get raisins any time!" But he looked mournfully at her and she relented. When he had gone, she finished the raisins he had left her and turned the idea over in her head. Could Isidor have framed Cassian in order to get the money? It hadn't been very good framing, but then, maybe he wasn't very intelligent. And as Cassian's heir, he would have the keys to the room. Probably. Maybe it was worth looking into. She made notes on what Bensen had said, trying and failing to be as neat as Miervaldis had been. He had large hands, too, she thought resentfully. It wasn't fair.

There was nothing else to do that night, and she certainly didn't want to go back to the dark room where Jaquan had been killed to go through the papers again. Instead, she wandered round their suite looking for a bookshelf, and found one in the study. It had a scattering of popular romances on it, most of which she'd read, but she picked up one that she remembered liking and took it back to the main room to read by the fire. She was curled up, lost in the adventures of a bold but poor warrior and his lady love, when she was yanked abruptly from the story by the clicking of the lock. Her heart pounded, but of course it was Miervaldis, looking a bit the worse for wear. She stood up hastily; he looked surprised to see her.

"Alyn," he said, and his voice was hoarse. "I didn't expect you to wait up..."

"I was reading, my lord," she waved the book, as proof.

"Ah, they provided books. How thoughtful." He locked the door behind him and limped wearily to the main room.

"My lord - are you hurt?" He waved the suggestion away.

"No, no, just tired. It's quite a way to the town, you know."

"You didn't take a coach?" Bensen had not said anything about a coach, but she had just assumed...

"No, that wouldn't have fitted in."

"Fitted in with what? My lord," she added hastily, realising she was interrogating him as though he was her ward, not her patron.

"I wanted to ask questions, and people don't speak to nobles and rich men with carriages. How were the papers?" He slung his coat onto one of the overstuffed chairs and sank into another.

"Oh... boring. They were mostly details of servants' contracts, and amendments to them. They have a really weird filing system. I haven't finished, I'm afraid."

"That's all right, there were a lot of them. And your lessons?"

"Fine. My lord, Bensen told me something interesting."

"Did he?" Miervaldis looked up, alert despite the obvious tiredness.

"Yes. He says Lord Isidor, Lord Cassian's heir, was in need of money."

"Lord Cassian's heir, hmmm?"

"Yes, his nephew, I think. The son of his younger brother, who's dead."

"I see, I see. Well done." He stared into the fire, thoughtful. "Anything else?"

"Yes; Bensen said he heard them having a row just before the murder."

"Just before?"

Alyn hurried to the notes she'd made and scanned them.

"Five days before, he said. Lord Isidor wanted money, and Lord Cassian refused him."

"I see."

"Bensen said he thought it might have been a plan to frame Lord Cassian, and to get him disgraced so Lord Isidor would inherit."

Miervaldis looked up, slightly surprised.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to kill Lord Cassian?" Although she'd thought the same thing, Alyn shivered.

"I did ask him that, but he said it was terrible to kill a lord and this was a safer way."

"Hmmm. Speaking to this Lord Isidor would be good, I think. Well done, Alyn, that's more than I managed."

"There was one other thing, my lord."

"Go on."

"Bensen said Lord Isidor was in with the Niethian crowd. I don't know what that means, but..." she tailed off. Miervaldis had tensed at the name. At her silence, he relaxed, but it looked like an effort to do so.

"The Niethians are... a faction in the Sun Court," he said carefully. "They are... not always in accordance with the decrees of the Emperor."

Alyn felt shocked. Surely the Emperor's word was law? Miervaldis shook his head tiredly at her expression.

"There'll always be people who disagree, Alyn, even with the will of the gods on earth. The Niethians sometimes try to garner support for their ideas, but don't usually get far. Lord Isidor sounds like their kind of recruit; a young, headstrong lord who doesn't yet have the power he thinks he ought to." He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm prejudging him, and that's bad. Look, it's past time for bed, we've got lots to do tomorrow. Well, you have. I think I may indulge myself and lie in." He smiled and stood up, clearly tired, and Alyn wondered if he'd done more than simply walk to and from town. Surely it wasn't that far? But she said nothing and did as he suggested, although she lay awake a long time in the dark, with too many questions passing through her head and no answers in sight.