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“
My
dear
Baron
,
”
the
Count
said
,
leaning
close
to
his
ear
,
“
you
know
,
don
’
t
you
,
that
the
Emperor
has
not
given
official
sanction
to
your
choice
of
heir
?
”
The
Baron
felt
himself
to
be
within
a
sudden
personal
cone
of
silence
produced
by
his
own
shock
.
He
stared
at
Fenring
,
barely
seeing
the
Count
’
s
lady
come
through
the
guards
beyond
to
join
the
party
in
the
golden
box
.
“
That
’
s
really
why
I
’
m
here
today
,
”
the
Count
said
.
“
The
Emperor
wishes
me
to
report
on
whether
you
’
ve
chosen
a
worthy
successor
.
There
’
s
nothing
like
the
arena
to
expose
the
true
person
from
beneath
the
mask
,
eh
?
”
“
The
Emperor
promised
me
free
choice
of
heir
!
”
the
Baron
grated
.
“
We
shall
see
,
”
Fenring
said
,
and
turned
away
to
greet
his
lady
.
She
sat
down
,
smiling
at
the
Baron
,
then
giving
her
attention
to
the
sand
floor
beneath
them
where
Feyd
-
Rautha
was
emerging
in
giles
and
tights
—
the
black
glove
and
the
long
knife
in
his
right
hand
,
the
white
glove
and
the
short
knife
in
his
left
hand
.
“
White
for
poison
,
black
for
purity
,
”
the
Lady
Fenring
said
.
“
A
curious
custom
,
isn
’
t
it
,
my
love
?
”
“
Um
-
m
-
m
-
m
,
”
the
Count
said
.
The
greeting
cheer
lifted
from
the
family
galleries
,
and
Feyd
-
Rautha
paused
to
accept
it
,
looking
up
and
scanning
the
faces
—
seeing
his
cousines
and
cousins
,
the
demibrothers
,
the
concubines
and
out
-
freyn
relations
.
They
were
so
many
pink
trumpet
mouths
yammering
amidst
a
flutter
of
colorful
clothing
and
banners
.
It
came
to
Feyd
-
Rautha
then
that
the
packed
ranks
of
faces
would
look
just
as
avidly
at
his
blood
as
at
that
of
the
slave
-
gladiator
.
There
was
not
a
doubt
of
the
outcome
in
this
fight
,
of
course
.
Here
was
only
the
form
of
danger
without
its
substance
—
yet
.
.
.
.
Feyd
-
Rautha
held
up
his
knives
to
the
sun
,
saluted
the
three
corners
of
the
arena
in
the
ancient
manner
.
The
short
knife
in
white
-
gloved
hand
(
white
,
the
sign
of
poison
)
went
first
into
its
sheath
.
Then
the
long
blade
in
the
black
-
gloved
hand
—
the
pure
blade
that
now
was
unpure
,
his
secret
weapon
to
turn
this
day
into
a
purely
personal
victory
:
poison
on
the
black
blade
.
