“We have a proposal, King-in-Waiting Regal. Prove to us, sir, that FitzChivalry is Witted, and that he used that Wit to kill King Shrewd, and we will let you put him to death as you see fit. We will witness your coronation as king of the Six Duchies. Further, we will accept Lord Bright as your presence in Buckkeep and allow you to retire your court to Tradeford.”

Triumph gleamed briefly on Regal’s face. Then suspicion masked it. “And if, Duke Brawndy, I do not prove this to your satisfaction?”

“Then FitzChivalry lives,” Brawndy calmly decreed. “And you give him stewardship of Buckkeep and the forces of Buck in your absence.” All three Coastal Dukes lifted their eyes to meet Regal’s.

“This is treason and treachery!” Regal hissed.

Shemshy’s hand almost went to his sword. Kelvar reddened but said nothing. The tension in the line of men behind them tightened a notch. Only Brawndy remained unmoved. “My lord, do you bring more charges?” he asked calmly. “Again, we will demand them proved. It could further delay your coronation.”

After a moment of their stony eyes and silence, Regal said quietly, “I spoke in haste, my dukes. These are trying times for me. Bereft of my father’s guidance so suddenly, bereaved of my brother, our lady queen and the child she carries gone missing … These surely are enough cause to drive any man to hasty statements. I … very well. I will acquiesce to this … bargain you set before me. I will prove FitzChivalry Witted, or I will set him free. Does that satisfy you?”

“No, my king-in-waiting,” Brawndy said quietly. “Such were not the terms we set. If innocent, FitzChivalry will be set in command of Buckkeep. If you prove him guilty, we shall accept Bright. Those were our terms.”

“And the deaths of Justin and Serene, valuable servants and coterie members? Those deaths at least we know we may put at his door. He has admitted as much.” The look Regal turned on me should have killed me right there. How deeply he must have regretted charging me with murdering Shrewd. But for Wallace’s wild accusations and Regal’s backing of them, he could have demanded me drowned for Justin’s death. That, as everyone had witnessed, was my doing. Ironically, his own desire to vilify me was what was staving off my execution.

“You will have every chance to prove him Witted and the killer of your father. For those crimes, only, will we let you hang him. As to the others … he claims they were the killers of the King. If he is not the guilty one, we are willing to accept that those he killed died justly.”

“This is intolerable!” Regal spat.

“My lord, those are our terms,” Brawndy returned calmly.

“And if I refuse them?” Regal flared angrily.

Brawndy shrugged. “The skies are clear, my lord. Raider weather, for those of us with coasts. We must disperse to our own Keeps, to guard our coasts as well we may. Without the convening of the full council, you cannot crown yourself king, nor lawfully appoint a man to hold Buck in your stead. You must winter at Buckkeep, my lord, and confront the sea pirates even as we do.”

“You ring me ’round with traditions and petty laws, all to force me to your will. Am I your king or am I not?” Regal demanded bluntly.

“You are not our king.” Brawndy pointed it out quietly but firmly. “You are our king-in-waiting. And likely to continue waiting until these charges and this issue is resolved.”

The blackness of Regal’s glare plainly showed how little this was to his liking. “Very well,” he said flatly, all too quickly. “I suppose I must submit to this … bargaining. Remember that you have decreed it must be this way, not I.” He turned and looked at me. I knew then that he would not keep his word; I knew I would die in this cell. That sick and sudden knowledge of my own death blackened the edges of my vision, set me swaying on my feet. I felt I had taken two steps back from life. A coldness crept up inside me.

“Then we are agreed,” Brawndy said smoothly. He turned his eyes back to me, and frowned. Something of what I was feeling must have showed on my face, for he asked quickly, “FitzChivalry. Are you fairly treated here? Do they feed you?” As he asked this he unfastened the brooch at his shoulder. His cloak was much worn, but of wool, and when he threw it to me, the weight of it knocked me back against the wall.

I clutched the cloak, warm still with his body heat, gratefully. “Water. Bread,” I said briefly. I looked down at the heavy wool garment. “Thank you,” I said more quietly.

“It’s better than many have!” Regal retorted angrily. “Times are hard,” he added lamely. As if those he spoke to did not know that better than he did.