Impulsive, enthusiastic, that was me. Loyal friend and deadly enemy and just solid guts when it came to a fight. Jumping forward I grabbed his hand and pumped it. "If you are telling me the truth, then you have a man at your side who will go the whole course. If you are lying to me and this is some trick of the King's--well then, Count, be ready to fight!" "No need to fight," he said, extracting his hand with some difficulty from my clutch. "Not between us at least. We have a difficult course ahead of us, and we must learn to rely upon each other." He cracked his knuckles and looked glumly out the window. "I sincerely hope that I will be able to rely on you. Freibur is a far different world from the one our ancestors ruled. The League has sapped the fight from our people. There are none I can really rely on." "There's nothing wrong with the bunch who took me out of my cell. They seemed to do the job well enough." "Muscle!" he spat, and pressed a button on the arm of his chair. "Thugs with heads of solid stone. I can hire all of those I need. What I need are men who can lead--help me to lead Freibur into its rightful future." I didn't mention the man who led the muscle the previous night, the one who had stayed in the corridor. If Rdenrundt wasn't going to talk about Angelina I certainly couldn't bring up the topic. Since he wanted brain not brawn, I decided to give him a little. "Did you dream up the torn piece of uniform left in the guard's hand in the prison? That was a good touch." His eyes narrowed a bit when he turned to look at me. "You're quite observant, Bent," he said. "A matter of training," I told him, trying to be both unassuming and positive at the same time. "There was this piece of red cloth with a button in the guard's hand, like something he had grabbed in a struggle. Yet all of the men I saw were dressed only in black. Perhaps a bit of misdirection...." "With each passing moment I'm getting happier that you have joined me," he said, and showed me all of his ragged teeth in an expression he must have thought was a grin. "The Old Duke's men wear red livery, as you undoubtedly know...." "And the Old Duke is the strongest supporter of Villelm IX," I finished for him. "It wouldn't hurt in the slightest if he had a falling out with the King." "Not the slightest," Rdenrundt echoed, and showed me all of his teeth again. I was beginning to dislike him intensely. If this was the front man Angelina had picked for her operation, then he was undoubtedly the best one for the job on the planet. But he was such a puffed-up crumb, with barely enough imagination to appreciate the ideas Angelina was feeding him. Yet I imagine he had the money and the title--and the ambition--which combination she had to have. Once more I wondered where she was.