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alized that Villon had moved to his other side and was now companionably holding his sword arm. It wasn't necessary. He didn't move.
Roland stood and left the room in a flurry of robes, his attendants closing in around him. The crowd began to talk and mill around, speaking softly at first and then more loudly as tension began to ease. Villon said, "For a moment I thought--" He shook his head, wry bitterness in his eyes. "My days of service won't last much longer, and I can't say that I'm sorry."
Villon had released of Thomas's arm, so he started making his way up toward the front of the hall. Halfway there Aviler met him. The High Minister looked haggard but also energized. He had probably done more of his life's work in the past day than he ever had since first taking office. He said quietly, "Denzil has three days to leave the city. That's not much time. We need to talk."
"No," Thomas said.
Aviler looked blank. "You mean, not here?"
"I mean, not at all." Before he could move on, he saw Renier coming toward them, using his bulk to part the milling crowd.
He reached them and said, "The King wants a private audience with you, Thomas."
"Good." He followed Renier to the front of the room, conscious of Aviler and Villon watching him.
The door at the back of the hall led to a short maze of old council rooms, all crowded with Albon knights, servants, and court functionaries. Thomas recognized no one, conscious of them only as blurs of color and noise. Eventually they reached a chamber with wide double-panel doors standing open and another contingent of knights guarding it.
Thomas followed Renier inside. It was a large parlor with arabesque wallpapers, thick carpets, and heavy brocaded furniture. There was a fire in a hearth with a mantel supported by two carved-marble nymphs, and all the candles were lit. Roland sat in one of the armchairs, staring unseeing at the far wall.
Renier said, "My lord."
Roland looked up, his eyes focusing. "Thank yo