Cyron leaned forward, scrubbing his left hand over his jaw. “What proof is there?”

“Of the creatures? None other than stories from refugees. But something is happening in eastern Erumvirine. None of the wood harvested near Derros is reaching Kelewan. Market taxes from that region have not been brought to the capital. A squad of troops sent to determine what delayed them has not reported back.”

“Signs that something is wrong there, certainly, but is it an invasion? There are many other explanations. The eastern lords could be in revolt. There could be a plague…” Prince Cyron’s recital tailed off as he recalled a dream he’d had, in which a dragon lay shattered and a carpet of black ants devoured a bear as they made their way north to feast on him. The dragon was the Naleni national symbol, and the bear represented Erumvirine.

And the ants?

The Prince shivered. Qiro Anturasi’s map added a new continent, home to monsters. If they had launched an attack, they might have made landfall in Erumvirine. It would have made more sense for them to have sailed directly up the Gold River, especially if Qiro was bent on avenging his granddaughter’s murder. But while an error in navigation might have put them in Erumvirine, Cyron refused to countenance that as a possibility. There is no way troops associated with Qiro Anturasi could have ever made an error in navigation. Either they were not associated with him at all, or they had a purpose in taking Erumvirine first.

He glanced at the minister and saw hope blossoming in Vniel’s eyes. “You would know if it was a revolt because the bureaucrats would know. So, you really don’t know what it is, do you?”

Vniel slowly shook his head. “I only know what I have told you, Highness.”

Cyron sat back in his throne and felt as if a hundred quor of rice had just landed on his chest. As much as he had hated the bureaucrats, they had always protected society. No matter how depraved a ruler might become, they insulated the people in the same way they insulated the ruler. They provided stability and assured that when destruction came, it would only go so far.

But now even they didn’t know what was going on. The invasion-or whatever it was that was eating up eastern Erumvirine-was beyond their control. They had for so long used their tools of deception and diversion to control events that they knew no other way of doing things. They were not prepared to handle emergencies; they’d just done everything they could to prevent them. And this they had taken to be one and the same thing, which it was not.

Cyron’s growing horror encompassed more than just the events in Erumvirine. If the bureaucracy failed there, it could fail elsewhere. Previously, the bureaucracies had been largely immune to harm, since everyone needed them to maintain order. But once they lost that power and began to panic, entire nations would fail with them.

“What would you have me do, my Prince?”

“Give me time to think.” Cyron forced himself to stand, then glanced down. “What word have you of the Virine military reaction?”

“Most of the Virine troops are in the western and central districts, Highness, guarding the borders with Moryth and Ceriskoron. They are moving troops east, but slowly. Prince Jekusmirwyn has always prided himself on being deliberate. He has not called up his populace to defend the nation.”

“Ministers have raised the alarm and he is not receptive to their message?”

“As you are, my lord, he is suspicious of them.” Vniel shrugged. “There was the Miromil misunderstanding.”

“Ah, yes.” Cyron nodded distractedly. “The negotiations to marry his daughter to the Crown Prince of Miromil were unnecessarily contentious, with each set of ministers misquoting their master to slow things down.”

“Errors in transcription…”

“Spare me, lest more errors cause needless delay here.” The Prince frowned heavily. “When did you first have word of this?”

“A week ago, but then it was nothing but horror tales.” Vniel opened arms swathed in gold silk. “By the time I began to see fire where there had just been smoke, so many reports were coming in that I could not group them into any cogent story.”

“And you were worried that members of the bureaucracy were in jeopardy, especially those staffing our legations in Erumvirine?”

The minister’s eyes tightened. “Fault me for that, Highness, as you wish, but without them we are blind.”

Cyron held a hand up. “Spare me your ire and I shall do the same, Minister. Something is attacking Erumvirine in the east-something you do not understand. The chances of success are incalculable and immaterial. Refugees will flee north, west, and south. Those who come north will take refuge in the mountains. If Kelewan falls, they’ll come north on the Imperial Road or head south. They’ll cause a panic, and that will not do. There are those in the Five Princes who will become ambitious.”

As he spoke, Cyron envisioned the world as a giant game board. His grandfather had used toy soldiers to wage imaginary wars, and the education he obtained from that allowed him to depose the previous Naleni prince and establish the Komyr Dynasty. Would that I had followed your example more closely, Grandfather.

What happened in the Five Princes really was immaterial. Each of those nations balanced the other. Had they ever been united, they might have posed a threat to the four larger nations. Efforts such as the dynastic marriage Jekusmirwyn had arranged had long helped play one nation off against the other. But even if the five of them united to attack Erumvirine while it was weak, they would still have to face whatever was attacking Erumvirine. And even if they succeeded there, chances were their alliance would fracture before they ever moved north through the mountains and set one foot on Naleni soil.

Cyron could not rely on Erumvirine to defend itself. And even if it did beat back the invaders, the refugees would cause serious problems in the south. Cyron would have to send troops to maintain order and be ready to defend his nation if the invaders moved north.

Unfortunately, the troops he would move south would have to be pulled from his border with Helosunde. He’d be forced to move some of his Helosundian mercenaries south as well, which would leave his northern border vulnerable. While he doubted Prince Pyrust would strike south and attack him, the Desei ruler might take the opportunity to solidify his grasp on Helosunde. Since Cyron’s troops acted as much as a brake on Helosundian adventurism as they did on Desei ambition, to pull troops south was to invite chaos on his northern border.

In his mind, he could see soldiers moving from one point to another, with troops of other nations drifting in to fill the vacuum. The amount of time it would take to move the troops, and to raise others to put in their place, would become critical. If he could keep Pyrust unaware of what he was doing for long enough, he would be able to get troops from the interior in position to defend the nation.

Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t see the maneuvers working. Desei troops advanced too quickly, and Helosundian units evaporated. Besides, Pyrust had married Jasai, Prince Eiran’s sister. If he used her influence to convince the Helosundian ruling council to agree to a truce, the Desei could pour into Nalenyr while Cyron fought to keep his southern border inviolate.

The Prince exhaled heavily. “Does this terrify you as much as it does me?”

“I am worried, Highness, but I am sure I do not see things as you do.”

Cyron clasped his hands at his waist. “I have no choice but to send troops south and they must be drawn from the northern garrisons, as those are our best. I can and will call up troops from the inland lords and send them north. Unfortunately, I have little control over what your counterparts in Helosunde will do. If past conduct is any indication, they will make the least intelligent move possible, which will invite Deseirion to descend.