"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Gratifying, to observe that brief scowl. The cant of his own head looks an admission: "My favour at court runs thin."

It runs just fine, better than any number of other places and times, but de Dreux's soiree lies in spitting distance of the well-buried. Best that no one question the appearance of Isaac's little falling-out.

Or the fates of three plucky young musicians, found dead this past winter.

"Besides, we're out of snail season. Are you presenting them anything new?"