The baron’s taxes, just like his ambitions, were becoming excessive. While the guild could not act decisively, they could speak their council as the... best could.Duncan the Tailor might have wanted our unfortunate tailor’s head swinging from a rope, but his father rather slowly realized that the mood of his subjects was shifting against some of his more random excesses. Grumbling tradesmen today would likely mean grumbling soldiers tomorrow, and the goal of his ambitions was yet further in the. Plus he knows better. He’d be sleeping with the fishes.Pilar, who plays the flattery game as well as any grown woman, gushed, “I am spent. Nothing left. Last night ... Walker... “ She shook her head, let her voice trail off.Vanessa glanced at me, “Maybe we should commemorate the occasion. An oil painting, say.”Pilar hummed “Master of the House.”I said, “Or a severed head.”Walker touched his throat reflexively.Constance Grayson called me herself. “Harper subpoenaed John Bolton. He’ll be. More

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