The watchers followed his movement as a matter of course. Bierdé could signal them to stand down to an at ease state, but without evident purpose to his actions, he did not care to perk their curiosity this night of all evenings.

They were all practiced at reading lips, and for that reason the lieutenant informed him of the early evening's turn of events.

"Where is he now?"

"Trotted off to the marsh woodlands merely minutes before you arrived at the bridge."

Bierdé shrugged, then he let out a sigh. "Just as well. Perhaps he will be eaten by something."

The advocate had pressed himself into their conspiracy without being invited by its participants. When the first attempt on Lord Carro's life failed, the advocate came to Bierdé with proof of his involvement and instead of reporting him offered valuable assistance through his own connections.

However, the advocate's motives were not transparent to Bierdé. There were rumors from Nincians close to the Solugarr family, but little of substance could be verified.

Of late, the brooding advocate was proving to be a liability.

"Anything else to report," Bierdé asked.

The lieutenant looked down to the clipboard holding his notes with an awkward grin lining his cheek.

"The Scion of House Salugarr was reported to be drinking an unknown substance; he treated it with such care as to arouse suspicion of its purpose.

"Soon after, he began to mutter drunkenly to himself. Fortunately, his words were so garbled the watchers only caught a few phrases, mostly non-incendiary in nature."

"Mostly," Captain Bierdé repeated with a doubt strained voice.

"To that… let me quote, 'was this wise, to meet here, Bierdé?', 'Renua, I'll drown in drink first."

Bierdé stood with his hand grazing the neck of his mount. He gave a careful look around.

The two men stood together in a cobblestone street that formed between the barricade wall buffering the canal and levy on one side and an off site administration building on the other.

It allowed the two a measure of discretion.

"If that is the extent of it," Captain Bierdé began his assessment, "then I do not believe there is anything to worry about. I warned him about the watchers -," he turned to the side and let out a cough into his riding gloves, "- and their uncanny ability to read lips."

"Most are veteran scouts of the campaign," Lieutenant Graves reminded him. "You pick up a skill or two in times of war."

"So I gather, lieutenant; you took matters in your own hands?"

"When I was informed of his activities, I asked the watcher to give me a moment alone to speak with the advocate. I gave a spiel, with his wife on the verge of having their second child, his responsibilities in the legal counsel's office weighing on the young man, the advocate is a bit out of sorts, to paraphrase what I said."

"And then?"

"It was old Fekunde. He stared at me with those wolf eyes of his set like he was warning off a lesser dog. He says to me, 'you understand, it is not the spirits of revelry we suspect he is conjuring up there on the mausoleum hill.'"

Captain Bierdé bit his lip. "Damn. It could have repercussions."

The lieutenant shook his head, grinning broadly.

"I think I may have put it to rest. I answered Fekunde as nonchalantly as I plausibly could, and still make light of it. I said to him, 'you said nothing about the advocate chanting in a diabolist tongue, or throwing pinches of dried mandrake in the air. You said he is up there mummering drunkenly.

"Fekunde humphed, then I commanded him to leave it to me. I went up there, conversed with the advocate. I steered the conversation to make the advocate appear as innocuous as possible.

"He claimed he was drinking absinthe. Good cover that turned out to be for it gave me an idea. Care to speculate what I did next, Captain?"

It only took a second for him to realize where this was going, Captain Bierdé snorted as he chuckled. "Double damn. No, you did not!"

"Yes. The only absinthe on the palace grounds I am aware of is in your liquor cabinet. So I hit your stash after talking to the advocate. That truly vile smelling Vertifey."

"Of course, the most expensive bottle in my collection," Bierdé protested.

"So I brought it back to Fekunde, opened it in his face. I watched him gag as he couldn't avoid taking a whiff. I told that fool I snatched it from the advocate's bag as he was puking his guts out.

"I waved the bottle again in the watcher's face and asked if he would care to try it. 'The vintage is quite decent, nay it is magnificent,' I told him. That is when he slipped up."

"Fekunde?"

"Yes. He answered me, 'I thought you said you knew nothing of the substance.' I looked right back into those gray eyes of his and told him, 'you disobeyed my order to stand down. Disobeying a commanding officer is a hanging offense."

"Oh yes, we have got him at last," Captain Bierdé exclaimed with his voice rattling coarsely.

"So I teased him further still. 'You might as well drink up,' I told him, 'it just might be your last.' The watcher's eyes just started twitching, the calculations going on in his head we're naked, so I let him off before he had cause to pry in our affairs any further as a matter of self-preservation on his part.

"I slapped him on the back, and laughed it off. Told him I was pleased with his work but as for now the suspicions did not rise to the proper concern of the palace guard. We are not the Inquisition, after all."

Bierdé nodded before he spoke.

"A bit of an insult to compare a proud Midvries man to the Suüdlands ardants."

The lieutenant shrugged. "All the more reason for him to back off as it puts the matter in the broader perspective of his duties."

Captain Bryan cleared his throat. "You did a superb job. Now that it is open, where is that bottle? After that escort I could use a swig or three."

The lieutenant produced it from his greatcoat. The green bottle shown in the moonlight only a few shots shy of full.

"Good man," the captain commended. He cleared his throat once more then he took a swig and gargled it before he swallowed.

"I spent the entire evening," he continued, "trying to impress a doomed but beguiling lady with grandiloquent words. Now I can barely speak."

The lieutenant accepted the bottle and raised it to his mouth with his other hand tapping the Lyre Assembly emblem beneath his left shoulder before giving the traditional toast.

"To whom we owe our greater glory, Death!"