They passed around a bottle of very expensive brandywine (purloined from Lord Ames) and spoke little.
'I'm surprised you agreed to this, Paet,' said Silverdun. 'Didn't you tell me once that Shadows don't get funerals?'
Paet looked at him and opened his mouth as if to speak. Instead, he simply shrugged and walked away.
Once he was gone, Silverdun and Ironfoot sat on the ground next to the tiny mound of dirt and finished the bottle.
It was late afternoon when the hired carriage stopped before Oarsbridge Manor, and Silverdun and Faella stepped out of it. Autumn leaves blew across the front walk, skittered across the lawn. Spring was approaching, but autumn still had work to do.
A servant admitted them into the house; Silverdun didn't recognize her, but then he'd been gone a very long time. She gave no indication that she had any idea who he was. Tea was offered and accepted.
They were sipping it in the parlor when Bresun appeared. 'Why, if it isn't Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun,' he said calmly, as if he'd been expecting their arrival. 'And the lady ...'
'Just Faella,' Silverdun said, as Faella rose and curtsied. 'Not `Lady' anything.'
'I see,' said Bresun, though he clearly did not. 'How may I be of service?'
Silverdun paused, wanting to keep Bresun in the dark for as long as possible. What must the man be thinking? He'd probably been dreading this moment every day for the past two years, since 'Lord Silverdun the Traitor' became 'Lord Silverdun the War Hero.' Silverdun had been happy to let him swing on the hook.
'Small point of propriety,' said Silverdun. 'There is no Lord Silverdun any longer, I'm afraid.' He shrugged. 'You'll just have to call me Perrin from now on.'
'Excuse me?' said Bresun. Silverdun could see that his uncle's feigned politeness was about to be shed.
'It's true,' said Silverdun. 'I petitioned the queen to have the lordship annulled, and she has graciously agreed to my petition. Both Oarsbridge and Connaugh are now estates of the Crown.'
Bresun simply stared at him. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
'I should add that the dissolution of the lordship means that all of your titles to the lands and properties are, sadly, revoked.'
'You can't do this,' said Bresun, shaking his head. 'You can't. You'll lose your title! You'll be penniless! We've been through all this before!'
'Oh,' said Silverdun. 'It's not so bad. I have a job, you see.'
'And I don't care about money; I love him for his looks,' said Faella, touching Silverdun's knee.
'By the way,' said Silverdun. 'The overseer for the Crown is going to be here tomorrow, and he'd appreciate it if you'd be out by then. Short notice, I know, but some things can't be helped.'
'You're mad,' said Bresun. 'I told you one day that I'd destroy you, and I still can.'
Silverdun glared at him. 'I think you'll find me a rather more able adversary than when last we met.'
He smiled. 'And anyway, it's not me you're up against. This is between you and Regina Titania, I'm afraid. You can take it up with the overseer, of course. You'll like him. Arcadian fellow, very peaceful and forgiving, as those sorts tend to be.'
Bresun sputtered, but said nothing.
Just before sunset, Silverdun and Faella walked hand in hand down the lawn to the family burial plot. Generations of Silverduns had been interred here, and were now simply names on stones.
His children, Silverdun realized, would not be noblemen. But he could live with that. As he had once pointed out to his mother, if they were all descendants of Uvenchaud, they were all lords.
And honestly, most noblemen were asses, anyway.
Silverdun looked down at his mother's headstone for the first time. He searched for some kind of sentiment to match the occasion, but came up with nothing.
Finally, he sighed and said, 'Well, Mother, I finally decided what kind of man I wanted to be. I'm not sure that you would have approved of my choice, though.'
'Come, love,' said Faella, kissing his cheek. 'If we leave now we can be
