“She’ll run out of Kovs soon.”
“You may jest, Hamun. But you have a sorry truth in the jest.”
“Then she may turn to a Trylon, perhaps the Trylon of the Golden Wind.”
“She knows I have never toadied to her, and dangerous that has been, fool that I am. No, old friend, I think we know each other well enough by now for me to tell you that the King himself frowns on his wife’s follies. Of course he is powerless, but one day ... who knows?”
“The King?” I said, surprised. “But he is a mere puppet.”
“Today, yes. If the war goes on ... then tomorrow, who’s to say?”
As you may imagine, I digested all this very thoroughly. It would not be as easy as all that. Queen Thyllis was seated very firmly on the throne — she and the Opaz-forsaken manhounds that lolled on her golden steps. The King her hu
