Chapter Nine
Nanda’s silver knife acquired, and Ivorak shepherded off into the care of The Shandrigal’s Order, Konrad tried to sleep. Thoughts of the so-called Mr. Vakatim kept him awake, as exhausted as he was. The nerve of the man was incredible. He had penetrated Ekamet high society with ease, effortlessly passed himself off as a natural among the aristocracy, purporting to be a man with as much right to the drawing-rooms of Ekamet’s finest as he had to breathing air. Konrad had not liked him, on the one or two occasions they had met. He had come across as cold, even calculating. But Konrad had set him down as an opportunist, a social climber, a man with an eye to his position and a desire to rise.
The truth was far worse. There could be little doubt that he intended to populate his n
