“That’s convenient,” the general said.
“Very impressive, Lieutenant Karn, Lila,” Montaigne said with a twitch of a smile. “Now, more than ever, this could spell the difference between victory and defeat.”
General Karn shifted in his seat.
What’s going on? Lila thought. Did somebody die while I was out of town?
There came a pounding at the door. One of the idling blackbirds opened up and spoke briefly with someone outside.
“It’s the principia, Your Majesty,” the blackbird said. “He says it’s urgent.”
“Everything these days is urgent,” the king said. “This had better be. Show him in.”
Cedric Fosnaught, the spiritual leader of the Church of Malthus, swept into the room in a flurry of self-importance. “Your Majesty, I am so sorry to interrupt,” the prelate said. “However, a ship has arrived in the harbor from the Northern Islands. The commander came ashore to inform us that he represents the Empress Celestine.”
Empress who? Lila thought. But the others wore stunned looks that said they were familiar with the name. What else have I missed? she thought. She was usually better informed than that.
“This ship is here?” the king said in a low, fierce voice. “At the river docks?”
Fosnaught nodded. He reached inside his robes, pulling out a rolled parchment and a velvet bag. “He gave me a message to you from the empress. And a token of her esteem.” The prelate extended the parchment and the bag toward the king.
Montaigne eyed them warily. “Hold those for the moment,” he said. “Botetort, tell the staff outside to send for Freeman.”
“Freeman?” Botetort looked from Montaigne to Fosnaught, who appeared as unhappy as the thane. “But what would he—?”
“Do it,” the king said.
Fosnaught opened his mouth as soon as the door closed behind Botetort. “Your Majesty, please indulge this loyal subject’s concern in the matter of the healer,” he said. “Is it really wise to—to—” His gaze fell on the Karns, and he seemed to be trying to rework what he meant to say. “—to introduce unfamiliar magery into the room? Especially a mage who has had such a brief tenure here?”
The king’s lips tightened into a thin line. “The boy has demonstrated more talent in his brief tenure here than many who have been here at court for years.”
Hmmm, Lila thought. Maybe I’ve underestimated the runaway princeling. He seems to have charmed the king, at least.
Eventually, Ash arrived, with Botetort watchdogging him, having run the gantlet outside. He bowed to the king. His eyes flicked from Destin to Lila, narrowing when they lit on the crates of flashcraft. “You asked for me, Your Majesty?”
“Fosnaught, give the items to the healer, so that he can examine them for curses, enchantments, and poisons.”
All at once, the principia seemed more than eager to drop the empress’s gifts into Ash’s hands.
Ash set the velvet bag on the table. He cradled the parchment in his hands, closed his eyes, and murmured charms over it. He looked up at the king, tapped the seal with his finger, and said, “Would you like to examine the seal, Your Majesty, in order to verify its authenticity before I break it?”
Montaigne leaned forward, careful not to get too close, and scanned the seal. “It seems to be in order,” he said. Ash broke the seal, unrolled the parchment, and ran his fingertips over the ink, murmuring what sounded like gibberish to Lila. Then nodded, as if he’d made a decision. “Good news, Your Majesty,” he said. “It is safe. If there were curses present, I have disabled them.” He handed the parchment to the king, then turned his attention to the velvet bag.
Meanwhile, the king scanned the empress’s message quickly, then thrust it at Destin. “She knows. The bloody empress knows we’ve found the girl. She wants to make the exchange as soon as possible.”
“But . . . that doesn’t make sense,” Destin muttered. “How could she possibly know?”
“She’s a bloody sorceress,” the king snarled. “A witch. Maybe she sacrificed a virgin or a goat. How would I know?”
“She’s a witch?” Fosnaught looked betrayed. “Commander Strangward never mentioned that.”
Destin read, tracing the script with a finger. “‘I understand that you now have the magemarked girl in your possession. I have sent Commander Strangward with an array of gifts, including a powerful weapon that will ignite terror in the hearts of your adversaries. This will be evidence of my good faith.’” He looked up. “What’s all this about a weapon? Did you see it, Fosnaught?”
The cleric shook his head. “It’s still on board his ship.”
“She promised us an army of mages,” General Karn said, snatching the parchment from his son’s hand and reading it over himself. “What makes her think that we would be satisfied with a weapon?”