As soon as the carriage has disappeared, however, Silverdun goes directly to the family solicitor's office. He knows the way well, as this is where he goes every month to draw upon his trust.
'You're a week early,' says the solicitor, when Silverdun barges into his office.
'I'm here about something else entirely,' says Silverdun. 'I'm here to take back my lordship.'
The solicitor looks at him through squinted eyes, tapping a long white quill pen against an inkwell as he considers Silverdun's words.
'I was wondering when I'd finally hear you say that,' says the solicitor, smiling.
Silverdun explains his plan, and the solicitor listens patiently, asking questions, making suggestions. When Silverdun returns home, he feels alive for the first time in as long as he can remember. It is time. Time to become a man. He goes to bed thinking about his childhood, about the day when he showed his mother how far he could walk around the wall. He feels as if something important has been given back to him.
The next morning, Silverdun awakes to find a quartet of burly Royal Guardsmen standing in his bedroom.
'Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun,' says one, reading from an official document, 'you are hereby detained for the crime of treason.'
'Excuse me?' says Silverdun. 'I'm fairly certain I've never done that one.'
Silverdun's next meeting with his solicitor is far less friendly, and takes place in jail.
'I can't believe you'd betray me like this,' says Silverdun. 'You worked for my father.' He eyes the solicitor across the small table with genuine fury. He can't remember the last time he felt something so white-hot.
'I did work for your father,' says the solicitor. 'But I work for your uncle now.' As if this justifies his betrayal.
'How can I possibly be charged with treason?' says Silverdun. 'Isn't that a bit excessive?'
'You signed documents in my office yesterday signaling your intent to take an estate from its rightful owner and provide it to an organization that does not respect Seelie sovereignty. That is a traitorous act.'
'I am its rightful owner!'
'That's not relevant, legally speaking.'
Silverdun fumes. 'And what makes you think you're going to get a judge who'll play along with this `organization that does not respect Seelie sovereignty' nonsense? Times have changed.'
'Perhaps,' says the solicitor. 'But not all judges have changed along with them. And it so happens that the court official who does judicial assignments is a very good friend of your uncle's.'
Silverdun is offered a choice. He can stand trial, and almost certainly be hanged, or he can plead guilty and spend the rest of his life in prison.
Silverdun is sitting in his holding cell pondering these options when he receives a note from his mother.
Perrin,
I would have come in person, but I am now too weak to travel, so this letter must suffice. I've received word f rom your uncle apprising me of your situation and asking me to implore you not to take your case to trial. I will so implore you, but not fir him. Braun wants to avoid the spectacle and would much prefer that you disappear quietly. I, however; simply want you to outlive me. Please respect a dying woman's last wish in this regard.
You will not believe me, but I know that Aba is not finished with you. This is a great detour; but it is not the end of the road. Know that.
You made a headstrong, stupid decision by choosing to go against your uncle as you've done. And I must say that I have never been more proud of you.
Perrin, I predict that your life is just beginning.
Love,
Mother
When Silverdun arrives by coach at the prison of Crere Sulace, a testy message sprite is waiting to inform him that his mother has died.
Silverdun's arrival is the talk of the prison for a few weeks, but his notoriety is short-lived. A few months later, Mauritane, the captain of the Royal Guard, is convicted of treason and sent to Crere Sulace as well.
For a long time, nothing happens. Then Midwinter descends, and Mother's prediction comes true most spectacularly.
