2
THE LAUGHTER OF THE BLADE
Even as we walk along the opulent, expansive hallways of the Court of Blades, with its tall alcoves on either side of the walls decorated with pedestals bearing white stone busts of famed magistrates and legendary duellists, it occurs to me that I could simply scream. There are plenty of people about, after all: plaintiffs and defendants awaiting trial, clerks and other functionaries buzzing about doing the business of the court, and even a few stragglers wandering about in search of entertainment. If my suspicions, however unfounded, about Bézan Réchambeau and his intentions are true, I should call out for help.
But call out what?
’Help! This man wasn’t annoyed when we handed him a dolvetto card for a private lesson with my sister! He glanced over my should
