'I'm old enough to be married,' he says, a bit petulantly.
'Don't do it, Perrin. Don't marry that woman.'
Silverdun is annoyed now. 'You don't even know her,' he says.
Mother laughs bitterly. 'You don't think so? You don't think that I knew a hundred women just like her when I was at court myself? You think me naive, Perrin, but I can assure you that I've seen everything you have and more.
'I'm going to marry her, Mother. It's the smart choice.'
'No,' she says. 'It's the easy choice. There's a difference.'
'I shouldn't have come,' he says.
'I'm sorry,' she says, sitting up straight, wiping her eyes. 'I'm so sorry, Perrin. I didn't want it to be like this. I'm just an old widow, sorting through my regrets and praying for forgiveness here in my tiny room.'
'Will you come to the wedding?'
Mother sighs. 'There isn't going to be any wedding, Perrin. You don't get that?'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Talk to your uncle,' says Mother. 'And you think me naive.'
'Well, this is all very mysterious,' says Silverdun. 'I'm going to go wait in the house-you know, where the family is supposed to live-and straighten this all out.'
'I'm sorry, Perrin,' she says.
'For what?'
She only smiles sadly and waits for him to go.
He finds Bresun waiting in his father's study, which Bresun clearly now thinks of as his own, from the framed Nyelcu degree to the hideous stuffed boar's head mounted on the wall.
'We have a problem,' says Bresun.
'What's that?' asked Silverdun.
'I was under the impression that you had no intention of ever marrying, Perrin. 'A bachelor unto death,' isn't that what you told me?'
'Things change,' says Silverdun. 'It seems the thing to do.'
'I'm afraid I can't allow it,' says Bresun.
'I wasn't aware that you were in any position to allow or disallow me anything. I'm the lord here; you merely manage my estate.'
Bresun strokes his mustache and sighs. 'You are an immature fool. Did you really think that? Here all this time I was under the impression that you'd figured out what was going on here and had meekly accepted your lot in life.'
'And what lot would that be?' asks Silverdun, thinking back to Mother's comment about naivete.
'I am Lord Silverdun, in all but name,' says Bresun. 'That you carry the title is but a formality. Over the past several years I've transferred all of the leases, all of the deeds, and all of the tax documents into my name. You have nothing except what I give you.
'But if you marry, then an awkward situation is created. Your lady love will no doubt wish to take up residence here at Oarsbridge, which I cannot allow. She will want to squeeze out little baby Silverduns, which does not conform to my plans at all.'
'You cannot divest me of my title,' says Silverdun. 'I want you out of here.'
Bresun laughs. 'Did you hear what I said? All of those boring documents you've signed for me over the years assigned the ownership of everything you see around you to me. Your title is all you have left. And whatever monies I choose to send you. Which I will continue to send, so long as you call off this wedding.'
'I can petition to have the lordship nullified,' says Silverdun. 'Yield everything to the Crown. You'd end up with nothing.'
'And you'd be a commoner, with no money, no skills, and no friends. Do you think your companions at court will so much as look your way if you do such a thing?'
Bresun leans forward at his desk, looks Silverdun in the eye. 'Don't try to bluff me, brat. I will destroy you.'
'This isn't over,' says Silverdun.
Back in the City Emerald, Silverdun sits in his sumptuous townhouse and weighs his options. Is everything Bresun told him true? He imagines it was. Bresun is a clever, careful man.
