‘For now, as our military hierarchy suggests – gather forces. I want Unta province back under our control. I want those nobles back in the capital with their forces.’ Her gaze swung to Possum. ‘Clawmaster, take family members hostage to ensure cooperation, starting tonight.’

Possum smiled his acknowledgement.

‘In one sense time is now on our side. Theirs is an uneasy alliance of new rulers jealous of their independence. If we can hold out long enough it will unravel. We will do all we can to help that process along. Havva, Possum, send out missives to all your contacts arguing that Tali intends to reassert its old hegemony. Make overtures to Dal Hon. Send messages to the Bloorian nobles that the Gris have been promised their lands. Begin a campaign of mutual suspicion and disinformation that will leave them unable to recognize the truth.’

The High Mage and the Clawmaster bowed.

‘And Clawmaster,’ Laseen continued, ‘general intelligence?’

Possum shrugged dismissively. ‘The streets are awash in rumours, of course. But nothing worthy of following. One persistent story does seem to be gathering strength despite its improbability. There's talk of the Crimson Guard's return.’

Anand barked a laugh. ‘Every year they're supposed to show up. Those old tales resurface any time morale is low. They're like a dose of the clap. We never seem able to shake them off entirely.’

Laseen smiled thinly. ‘Then let us hope they do oblige us, High Fist. It will give us a chance to finally rid ourselves of them.’

‘You're so certain?’ This from Havva.

‘Yes. They'd be fools to come back, and K'azz was no fool.’

Possum noted Mallick watching Laseen more intently than during the entire meeting. The fat man's lips drew down in thought and he lowered his gaze.

‘This council has ended. You are dismissed.’

‘As the Empress commands,’ all responded, even Korbolo.

Laseen caught Possum's eye. ‘A word, Clawmaster.’

Possum held back while the others withdrew. Now his time had come. He could delay no longer. What would it be? Denial? Rage? He had to admit to a certain curiosity, even if he feared the cliched killing of the messenger. The door closed and he and the Empress were alone. She went to the single window, stood facing out, hands clasped at her back.

‘Your silence tells me all I need to know, Possum.’ She glanced back, sidelong. ‘You stand distant, close by the door. Am I that terrifying a tyrant?’

For the life of him, Possum did not know how to respond. Topper, now he would not have had any reservations. How familiar Topper had been with her! Or Pearl… he'd have some glib line. Ever ready with the facile patter that man had been. Like oral flatulence. But not Possum. His expertise was lying low. Now he was being called to creep out into the light. How bright the glare!

‘Names, Clawmaster.’

Possum cleared his throat, tried to speak, found his mouth too dry. He wondered distantly at this: fear for himself? Or pity for the pain he must convey? ‘Amaron,’ he managed. Toc the Elder, Choss and… Urko.’

‘So – Toc. He is this Seti warlord, is he not?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yet Anand does not know.’

‘No. Very few are aware – bad for morale, yes?’

Silence. A back so tense Possum imagined it incapable of flexing. Watching her standing there all alone taking this news of the betrayal of so many old companions, Possum settled on pity.

‘Leave me,’ she said, her voice still under ruthless control.

Possum bowed and exited pulling the door tight behind him. To the guards outside he said, ‘The Empress does not wish to be disturbed.’

On board Urko's flagship, the Genabackan barque Keth's Loss, Ullen watched the latest wave of Moranth Silver quorls, exhausted, come scudding in low over the waves to set down ever so daintily on shore. Made of spun glass, the giant dragonfly-like monsters seemed to him. Yet surprisingly sturdy. Each carried two riders, a handler and passenger, plus one small box – one exceedingly precious box. The riders dismounted and unloaded the quorl. The passenger, a Moranth Gold warrior, would assemble for transport in one of the ten contracted Moranth Blue galleys while the handler would take his mount to rest and eat. So elegant, Ullen reflected, the flying creatures with their four tissue-thin wings and long segmented tails. Until you see them eat. The damned monsters ate live prey.

A messenger presented papers for his inspection – objections regarding space for water requisition. Ullen scrawled ‘Maximum!’ and handed back the orders then returned to studying the foreigners. Forty more Gold warriors for Urko's grand alliance of the disaffected. Some two thousand of them now. And the last wave of recruitment, too. Word had come from Quon; events were far ahead of schedule. The fleet had to move now or risk becoming a footnote.

Further out to sea, beyond the anchorage, swift scout vessels already scoured the sea-lanes southward, securing the route of the hundred-vessel convoy that would sail this very night.

‘Watching our Genabackan allies, aren't you?’ came a woman's rich contralto. Ullen turned. Dominating the mid-deck beneath a shading canopy sat Urko's new mage cadre leader, the ample, midnight-hued Dal Honese witch, Bala Jesselt.

Ullen allowed himself a guarded nod. ‘Yes.’

‘Can we trust them, hmm? Why are they with us, yes? What are their goals?’

‘Yes? What are they? You are the mage.’

Bala shrugged her thick shoulders, fanned her face. ‘Well, who can say? Their minds work in strange ways.’

‘Strong allies for now though.’

‘Yes… for now.’

Ullen chose to overlook the opening – Bala was notorious for her innuendo and constant scheming for self-advancement. Her unbridled ambition had had her eliminated from the cadre long ago. No doubt Urko believed he could keep her in check, but Ullen wondered. Further messages arrived. Bala continued fanning her glistening sweaty face while Ullen answered each. ‘What of you?’ she asked as he struggled with the final order of sailing.

‘I'm sorry?’

Once Adjutant to Choss, now a mere staff-chief. A demotion, yes?’

Ullen returned the orders. He gave the new mage cadre leader his best smile. ‘I think of it as more of a sideways move.’

She sighed her disappointment, flicked her fan. ‘I suppose one must make the best of what little one can manage.’

‘Speaking of what little one can manage – what word from Li Heng or Dal Hon?’

The fan snapped shut. ‘Do not mock me! All of you should be grateful for my presence! If it were not for me shielding this fleet Admiral Nok would have sunk the lot of you.’

‘Nok is wholly preoccupied by the Seven Cities pacification. He is wise enough to keep to one war at a time.’

Bala's laugh shook her wide bosom. ‘What could you know of the mind of a commander as great as he?’

Ullen almost explained that he was Choss's adjutant and that Choss had been Nok's prote?ge?, but he realized the effort would be lost on one such as this. He gratefully accepted the distraction of a Gold Moranth messenger arrived by launch. ‘Yes?’

‘Commander V'thell once again asks to be informed of our destination.’

‘Inform V'thell that for reasons of security no one but Urko knows our destination. Not even I know. Word will be given once the fleet is at sea.’

‘Very well. What of storms scattering the fleet?’

‘We will communicate by flag, lantern and,’ he nodded to Bala, ‘mage. What of your quorls?’

‘All the quorls will be returned. They hate the water.’

‘A shame that.’

The messenger bowed and climbed down the side to the waiting launch. Idly, Ullen wondered if a Moranth in all his armour would sink just as swiftly as any normal armoured man, and whether they were insane not to bow in any way to the altered circumstances of travel at sea.