“There’s three of them,” said Lehr as he obediently shifted over without getting up. “One of them is Toarsen, one of them is wearing a lot of metal, and the third is in soft-soled shoes.”

Tier looked at Lehr in surprise. Well, thought Seraph, she’d told him that the children had been growing into their powers.

“How do you know it’s Toarsen?” Tier asked.

Lehr grimaced, “I know. It bothers me, too. Mother says I’ll get used to it. But I liked it better when I just thought I was a good tracker—bringing magic into it robs me of the satisfaction of having a skill. Toarsen’s wearing leather-soled boots and there’s a nail sticking out of one heel. Gives him a stomp-click, stomp-click kind of walk.”

There was a soft knock on the door, and Jes’s soundless response made Seraph shiver with the cold.

“Who is it?” asked Tier, deliberately sounding groggy and irritable.

“Phoran,” replied a firm tenor not a whit less irritable. “Here at your command.”

Tier grinned and opened the door. “Thank you for coming, Your Greatness. Come in.”

“I really hate that one,” said a young man who could be none other than the Emperor. His bright eyes slid over Seraph and Jes, paused on Lehr, and returned to Tier. “It’s bad enough to be Your Mightinessed and Your Highnessed by people who consider you a fool. But to be insulted for my extra weight”—he patted his waist, which was plump—“is beyond the pale. I hope you didn’t wake me up to meet your family—although your wife is certainly lovely enough to be worth any effort on my part. I’m afraid that Avar is miffed with his brother for having the audaciousness to force him to get me up—and twice as miffed that I hadn’t told him that I was meeting a prisoner in the bowels of the palace.”

Tier grinned at him. “How did you know they’re my family?”

Phoran snorted. “A lovely Traveler lady and two boys—one who looks like her and the other like you? Please, I’m supposed to be a drunkard but I am not a complete idiot. I know that you told me she’d come, but isn’t she a little early?”

He turned gracefully and indicated the big man who’d closed the door behind them—the one Lehr said was wearing metal. “Avar, I’d like to introduce you to Tier of Redern—from your own Sept. Tier this is Avar, Sept of Leheigh, and my friend.”

“My Sept,” Tier said, bowing his head briskly.

“Who are you that you call the Emperor to attend you?” said Avar, ignoring Tier’s greeting.

Jealous? thought Seraph.

“I am his humble servant,” said Tier smoothly.

“He’s helping me,” said Phoran. “The Path is more dangerous than you think. It is thanks to Tier that I realized how dangerous. He’s been helping to find out who the Raptors are and at the same time subverting the Passerines.”

“That’s why you started the sword drills,” said Toarsen, sounding disillusioned.

Seraph, being a mother, heard the unspoken—you didn’t really care about us.

“He told me,” said Phoran, not looking at Toarsen, “that there were a number of young men who wanted but a little direction to be the best chance I had of controlling my empire.”

“You thought we could aid the Emperor?” said Toarsen, sounding almost shocked.

As if, thought Seraph with exasperation for the male half of the species, being used by the Emperor were a great thing.

“I know you can,” said Tier. “Where else is he likely to get a bunch of hotheads who can fight and aren’t sworn men of some Sept or other?”

“Collarn’s job,” said Toarsen. “You arranged Collarn’s job.”

“Actually,” said the Emperor, clearing his throat. “That was me.”

Toarsen’s face was bewildered when he turned to Tier. “The Emperor is a drunken sot,” he said, as if the Emperor weren’t standing next to him. “He follows Avar around like a lost puppy and does whatever Avar tells him to. You, Tier, are a bored soldier who has found a hobby to help make a year in captivity pass more quickly. You find the Raptors annoying and the Masters even more so. So you decided to see what you could do to tweak their tails and gain the admiration of the Passerines. When you started, you found that you actually liked a few of us.”

“I was never allowed to be anything but a drunken sot,” said Phoran coolly, but without anger. “And everyone follows Avar around like lost puppies.”

“I saw a bunch of rowdy boys being led into hell by a pack of carrion-eaters,” said Tier. “As I rather liked some of you and despise men who play games with other people’ s lives—I decided to see what I could do about the situation.”

“It works because he does care,” added Lehr. “If he’d just been trying to use you, you’d have seen through him.”

Avar, leaning against the door, rubbed his face. “Would someone care to tell us why we’re here now? Certainly there are better times for theatrics than the wee hours of the morning.”

“The Path is preparing a move to preempt me from taking control of the young men from them,” said Tier. “Myrceria told me that they are intending to have a Disciplining—a particularly brutal method they employ to keep their secrets. One of the boys is singled out and punished by everyone. I gather that the boy who is punished sometimes doesn’t survive. I think that they’ll choose Collarn—but they might take Toarsen or Kissel as they are the three who are my closest associates.”

Phoran humpfed, then said, “I can warn Collarn on my way back to bed without anyone being the wiser. But we ought to finish the introductions before we attend to business further. Do be a credit to your parents’ instructions in manners and introduce us to your family, Tier.”

Tier bowed and grinned sheepishly. “This is my wife Seraph, Raven of the Clan of Isolda the Silent. My son Jesaphi, whom we call Jes, Guardian. My younger son Lehr, Hunter. Seraph, Jes, Lehr, may I introduce you to Phoran the Twenty-Seventh.”

Over the polite murmurs and shuffles, Toarsen said, “Twenty-Sixth.”

Phoran grinned. “Only if you don’t count the first one. I always do, since without him there wouldn’t have been an Empire, whatever his son Phoran the First or Second said.”

Toarsen smiled reluctantly. No wonder her husband liked this boy who happened to be emperor, thought Seraph. They were very much alike.

“I had intended to warn Collarn,” said Tier, returning to the matter at hand. “But my wife pointed out that this Disciplining is the best chance we’ll have of clearing the whole lot. Everyone is supposed to attend them. They’ll be expecting some resistance from the Passerines—too many of them have begun to look at the things the Path wants of them—but they won’t be expecting an outside attack.”

“When will it be?” asked Phoran.

“Sometime in the next few days,” replied Tier.

Phoran shook his head. “There are two hundred of them—and five wizards, and the Sept of Gerant and his men aren’t here yet. I have—”

“I have twenty men here,” said Avar, “who are my men, not my father’s.”

“And my wife tells me that she can bring another fifty or so—light foot, armed mostly with knives with a few swords,” said Tier. “Travelers.”

Suspiciously, Avar asked, “Why would you Travelers be interested in this?”

“Because our people are dying out,” Seraph said. “For as long as I remember the Septs have been trying to destroy them. If my friends help you, Phoran—would you be willing to return the favor?”

Phoran nodded his head slowly. “I’ll do what I can. I don’t have the power that an emperor should, and championing the Travelers is not going to help. But I’ll do what I can.”

“Will that be good enough?” asked Avar.

Seraph smiled. “The Path have been killing Travelers for centuries. We just didn’t know about them until now—if Phoran would not invite us in to help him, we would go after them on our own. But it’s much safer to invade the palace under imperial command.”

“Myrceria will try and find out when this Disciplining will take place,” continued Tier.