"The Lady is amassing an army," Sir Simon muttered.

"Hardly," said Blackthorn. "The Windemeres may have an armada, but they have no ground forces to stage an attack against the mainland, nor can they afford one. The best that Lady Windmere can do is hole herself in her island fortress, and she is welcome to do so. That way, she is no threat to anyone else. Eventually, she will run out of funds, and her loyal captains and crews will abandon her, especially when the crown starts hiring them." He smiled. "For now, I am more concerned about the citizens of New Magincia. Have they responded to our other terms?"

"They will recognize thee as Regent of Britannia, my Lord, though they ask that the Black Company no longer maintain a presence here in New Magincia."

"Fair enough," Blackthorn said, "but a complement of the Britannian Guard must be allowed to remain. Order must be enforced, one way or the other."

"This they understand, my Lord," said Simon. "Still, they ask but one more thing of thee." He hesitated, and shared a wary glance with Malone.

Blackthorn stood, and leaned over the desk. He did not like the sound of this. All the terms that they had discussed had already been met. "What is it?" he asked, sternly.

"They asked that Councilor Windemere be released from his imprisonment so that he may a undergo fair trial, my Lord."

Blackthorn allowed an uncomfortable moment of silence to pass before he laughed. "I will not release him, for he is charged with criminal acts, but that the Councilor would undergo a trial was never in any doubt, nor did I ever have any plans of executing him." The two knights visibly showed their relief, for clearly, they had had their doubts. Blackthorn grinned. "I am no tyrant, my friends. Traitor or not, Council Windemere has his rights, and I shall respect them."

They both bowed. "Of course, my Lord," Lord Malone said. "The citizens of New Magincia will be relieved to hear of this."

"I am certain that all of Britannia will be," said Blackthorn. "An example needed to be set. Those who consider treachery will think twice when they recall what was threatened, even if the threat is not followed through. Now if thou wilt excuse me, I have a friend to visit."

When he opened the door to Shaana's room at The Humble Palate, New Magincia's only pub and inn, he startled the woman attending the wounded knight. The healer was old, hair filmy and gray, nose and chin crooked and long. She jerked back from the bed, and when her eyes caught Blackthorn, they went wide with fright. She actually took a step back and wrapped herself in her cloak as if it might protect her. Windemere, he thought darkly, what hast thou said of me to make them tremble like this?

He raised his hands. "I apologize, good healer. I did not mean to frighten thee. The innkeeper told me that thou wert out collecting herbs for the evening."

It still took a moment for the healer to relax. "Not yet, my Lord. I wanted to ensure that thy friend was in good health before I left." She held up a vial. "I was going to give her this. 'Tis a mixture of ginseng and garlic and other herbs of healing."

"Allow me to do it for thee, then," said Blackthorn, "and thou mayest go about thy business. I have no wish to detain thee from thy chores."