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to
work.
    Amily had seen over a dozen girls like that, either exploited or ignored by their well-off relations, and that had been before she was actually looking for them. How many more were out there? For the most part, so far as the
truly
wealthy and highborn were concerned, they were so invisible they might not even exist. The sort of highborn that frequented the Court left such girls to their seneschals to deal with.
    Now, what if Amily was to actively start recruiting some of them? Some would probably object, but there should be some who would be willing to help.
    :If you are waiting for me to voice an objection, you will be waiting until your hair turns gray,:
Rolan observed.
:We should give them incentives in the form of . . . hmm. Perhaps the incentives should vary.:
    The urge to drowse forgotten, Amily squirmed out of bed and grabbed a fresh uniform.
    After fortifying herself with breakfast, she called on Dia. Unlike most of her peers, Dia was an early riser, and invited her old friend to have a tour of the kennels and inspect the new litters of puppies. There were two litters of the tiny muff-dogs, sweet-tempered spaniels that Dia had bred to keep bored ladies company. The puppies were adorable, and so small two of them would fit in Amily’s hand. But muff-dogs were not all Dia bred; she supplied the Guard with hounds they could train to search for hidden enemies or search for people who werelost, she bred enormous, patient dogs that were first-class nursemaids for adventuresome littles, courageous rat-terriers who never hesitated in taking on the vermin even cats feared to attack, and she bred enormous mastiffs as protection dogs. Amily always enjoyed taking the tours of Dia’s kennels, and secretly got a lot of amusement at seeing the elegant Lady Dia with her lush, brown hair tied in a knot on the top of her head, bits straggling out, in an old moleskin tunic, trews, and tarred boots, getting down on the floor and being covered in giant herds of dog.
    When they were done, both of them were ready for a second breakfast—and in Lady Dia’s case, a good wash and a change of clothing.
    â€œNow, what is it that you need to talk about that you’d endure getting dragged through my kennels in order to get to talk to me?” Dia asked, as she settled herself on a comfortable seat, her sensuous body wrapped in a gorgeous robe. Her handmaid put her hair in order while she hungrily devoured miniature egg pies. Dia’s handmaid was exactly the sort of young woman Amily wanted to recruit for her informants—not Miana herself, because if Dia became untrustworthy, the next thing that would occur would be for the sun to rise in the west—but the sort of beautifully bred and absolutely impoverished highborn girl that had
no
prospects in front of her without someone like Lady Dia. Miana, aside from knowing the ins and outs of everything needed to keep Dia looking stunning, knew every detail of the voluminous genealogies of the highborn families of Valdemar. Dia called that, “deep knowledge of the studbook.” And Miana was as plain as plain could be. With her mousy brown hair, flat, uninteresting face, and equally flat figure, the only way many women would take her as a handmaiden was as someone to feel superior to.
    Which was ridiculous, because Miana had a mind as sharp as any scholar’s. There were so many things she helped Diawith that were
not
involved in making Dia look gorgeous that it sometimes made Amily’s head spin.
    â€œActually, this is a perfect time to talk to you, because Miana is here,” Amily replied, helping herself to some as well. She explained her idea as both Dia and her handmaid listened intently. When she was done, Miana was the first to speak up.
    â€œIf Lady Dia hadn’t asked me to be her companion, I’d have given something like that serious consideration, Herald,” she said soberly. “Especially if there was some sort of