"I used to be a seamstress in Windal," the soldier said dully. With the transformation completed, she left Raven to admire herself.

Raven, on arriving in the field, had quickly noted the simmering hostility that existed between the regular troops and the squads of military mages. It was an irrational prejudice, one that had a long history. The Great Upheavals had brought low the mighty cultures of the Northern and Southern Continents. Magic, stupidly, had been blamed for the vast calamities.

But that was how people behaved when things went wrong. They blamed whoever was the oddest among themselves. Gods knew the children she'd grown up with in that horrid village had used her as the object of blame whenever it was convenient.

How much more they would have despised her, she thought, if they had known about her latent magical abilities.

At the moment the army was on the move. They marched and rode every day, during the daylight watches, pausing for carefully timed food and rest periods.

It was strenuous, even though Raven had been assigned a horse to ride. The animal frightened her a bit at first, but she had gotten used to it. She rode among a small company of mages, a mixed bag of Far Speak wizards and healers. They showed her camaraderie, despite the fact that she hadn't even properly graduated from the Academy and was thus a novice in the magical arts.

Apparently, they were just happy to have another magician in the ranks. The regular troops far outnumbered the wizards in Weisel's army.

They were heading for Trael, so went the scuttlebutt. It was another of the Isthmus's city-states. Raven, despite herself, felt a little giddy at the thought that she might be witness to an actual battle. Somehow during her two years at the Academy, she had never successfully imagined herself in combat conditions.

Not that she expected to fight. Of course not. So she could use her minor magics to light a candle or two, so what? It wasn't going to help much in battle.

She was here because Weisel wanted her here. And because Matokin wanted to give Weisel what he wanted.

But she knew damned well there was more to it than that. Those years at the Academy had taught her duplicity as much as magic. Matokin wanted her to spy on Weisel. Very well. But she had no idea what, exactly, she was supposed to be looking for. Was the Felk general suspected of disloyalty, of treason? It seemed unlikely, considering the victories he'd won for the empire.

But, one never knew where a traitor was going to spring up.

That night, after the long day's riding, she was summoned to Weisel's tent a second time.

The Felk general's eyes widened. "Well, I honestly don't believe I'd have recognized you if you had not been announced."

"General?" Raven was nonplussed, and suddenly, terribly self-conscious.

"I mean to say," Weisel went on, chuckling at her confusion, "that there was a pretty girl underneath that dreary robe and untidy hair. Just like I suspected."

Raven felt heat rush to her cheeks, but it wasn't shame making her blush. That she was used to. Being complimented, though, was almost an entirely new experience.

It spread an adolescent smile across her face, a face that wasn't at all used to the expression.

Weisel laughed harder. "Prettier still! You look infinitely less mopy with a smile. You might want to practice it." He was at his table, where a plate of what looked like regular soldier's rations sat beside a set of maps.

"Thank you, General Weisel."

He waved it off. "But enough. I do enjoy your company, Raven, but we are closing fast on our next target, and my senior staff will soon want their orders. I want a word or two with you before that."

She couldn't help but feel special that the general was making this time for her.

"It's time I told you why I requisitioned you directly out of the Academy," Weisel said. He sounded frank. "I wanted to know about Far Movement magic."

Raven blinked. "Far Movement?" It suddenly flashed in her mind—that bully girl Hert at the Academy jamming her face against the corridor wall, telling her to open a portal and walk through it.

"Yes. Portals. Fascinating stuff." Weisel picked up a fork. "I employed Far Movement magic during the Battle of U'delph. It was of inestimable value for a surprise attack. But I wanted to learn all I could about how the portals operated." He ate a bite of his dinner, showing a little less apathy for the food than the mages in her unit had at supper tonight.

"Portals, General?" Obviously a mistake had occurred. How would Weisel react when he discovered

it? A feeling of dread stole over her. What, exactly, had Matokin set her up for?

But she was loyal. She was obedient. She would point out the mistake now, to Weisel, before things went too far. Then she would no doubt be returned to Felk, to face whatever consequences might await there.

"I am afraid, General Weisel, that I am not at all sufficiently versed in the complex particulars of Far Movement spells to be of—"

He set down his fork somewhat sharply. Raven managed not to wince.

"I know that, girl. I may not be a wizard like the rest of Matokin's political cadre back there in Felk, but I'm still of noble blood." His face had darkened a bit.

"Of course, General," she said, pleased with the steadiness of her voice. Panic was only the result of a lack of discipline.

Weisel had hunched forward slightly. Now his body relaxed. "I know that now, I should say. About the relative magical abilities of someone who hasn't yet graduated from the Academy. I've made some inquiries, something I should've done in the first place I realize in hindsight. I've learned how exceptional a wizard must be to master the opening of portals."

"It is perhaps the most difficult of all magics, General Weisel."

"That I'm not sure about," he said, solemnly.

"Sir?"

"Have you ever heard of resurrection magic?" There was now an odd glint in his eyes.

"No, General," she said honestly.

"Rejuvenation spells?"

"Yes. I have heard of those. They are practiced by healers, but only by the most advanced ones. I am afraid I wouldn't—"

"—know anything about it," he shrugged. "No matter. But about the Far Movement magic, yes, I wanted to know more about it. As a war commander, I felt it incumbent on me to know everything I could about the weapons and resources at my disposal. Far Movement is, make no mistake, a very new weapon of war."

He let out a bitter-sounding sigh. "But these mages Matokin has appointed to my army, every last one of them, have been instructed to keep their lips locked about magic around me. Can you imagine? I am to know nothing about the wizardry I might employ in battle. Ludicrous, isn't it?"

Raven herself had certainly been surprised when she'd learned about the standing order there in Matokin's office at the palace.

Suddenly, Weisel erupted into laughter, much longer and louder than before. "Then, of course, I realized," he finally said, as Raven looked on, perplexed.

"General?"

He stood up, looking directly into her eyes. "Matokin," Weisel said slowly, "doesn't want to win this war."

Raven frowned mightily. Then Weisel waved her into a seat, and explained.

SHE HAD RETURNED to her unit, peripherally aware that here and there a male soldier was looking her way, a leer on his face. Being the object of a man's lust—again, an almost entirely new experience—should have been more interesting to her. But she was quite preoccupied.

She went numbly into the small tent that was hers and lay down, still in her new clothes, on the bedroll. She could still feel the hard ground underneath, but she ignored it.

Weisel's allegation about her father was the single most treasonous thing she'd ever heard anyone say! If any student at the Academy had spoken such a thing aloud, he would be reported by a dozen fellow students before he could take his next breath.