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"Kidnapped? For pity's sake, Asta, now you're just being absurd," Brinn told her with uncharacteristic sharpness, though she was still absently stroking Sereth's dark hair.
"Your zister zpeaks zense, Asta," said Coldan reluctantly. "I hardly zink Aldarion could be overpowered by Lord Zador, of all men."
"As if I hadn't thought of that! He'd have a gang, wouldn't he?" Ideas were springing up like weeds in the fertile soil of Asta's imagination. "These so-called guardsmen are probably in it, and that dreadful old man, and of course those two "ladies" who invaded the Common Room this morning.
'Besides, Sador can't be his real name– now that would be absurd." She had remembered, now, where it was that she had first encountered the name: attached to the maimed servant character in that deplorable, but supposedly factual, historical play Aldarion had tried to foist on them. "In fact, I'll tell you what, I don't believe there's anything the matter with his leg at all. I'm sure he's just pretending to be lame, to put us all off our guard– and– and make it easier for him to vanish once his schemes are complete. Why it's just's the sort of thing a master criminal would do."
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