“Charles Bourbon would not execute his brother. Prince Philippe and his Septembrines were exiled to Belusha. I understand that most of them died there.” “And Gibson was one of them,” I said, in a desperate attempt to divert what I knew must be coming. “One of the Septembrines.” I wished at once that I had not come to the athenaeum. I knew what Tor Arrian was about to say. “Oh no,” the elder scholiast said, eyes hugely magnified so that twin moons shone down on me, green as his robes. “He was the prince himself. He served most of his time on Belusha in cryonic fugue—a benefit of his rank—and
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