“Nine times nine.” “Eighty-one.” She was quivering like a rabbit. Another trick. “Sixteen times sixteen.” She paused. Blinked. He could see the calculation running behind her eyes. “Don’t dare to lie to me,” he rumbled ominously, and she flinched, her head ducking. “Two hundred fifty-six,” she whispered. “How many copper sens to a sovereign?” “Twelve hundred.” “Spell ballistae.” She spelled it down to the tricky e. “Good enough,”
