Isana shook her head and surprised herself with a quiet laugh. "No, no, not that talk," Isana said. "You don't understand-"

She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She turned to find Araris standing in the door. "Captain," he said quietly, frowning. "We just got word from one of the men. Senator Arnos's singulares are on the way to see you."

Tavi's chin jerked up sharply. "Why?"

Araris shrugged. "No details yet. They're up at the front door now."

"This seems like a good time to speak to Maximus and Crassus about this week's training schedule. Send a runner to them."

Araris thumped his fist to his heart and departed. Tavi bit his lip, glancing around the little office. He opened the second door behind the desk, and said, "Auntie, could I convince you to wait in my chambers? I'd just as soon not explain to the Senator's flunkies what you're doing here."

"Of course," Isana said, rising. She paced quickly through the door. It was difficult to see much without any lamps, but the modest-sized chamber looked as functional and stark as his office, except for the rumpled, double-sized bed. If nothing else, she supposed, the Legions had done that much for him. Anyone who could convince Tavi to keep his room clean couldn't be entirely bad.

Tavi shut the door most of the way, put a finger against his lips in an entirely unnecessary gesture of caution, and then returned to the office. Isana heard him putting the chairs back into position, and heard a tinny clink as he presumably placed one of the tea cups back onto its shelf. His shadow moved across the narrow opening of the cracked door, and he settled down at his desk. Paper rustled. A few seconds later, the door opened again, and several sets of heavy footsteps entered the room.

"Just leave my breakfast tray on the shelf," Tavi said in an absentminded tone. "And none of your nagging. I'll get to it when I get to it."

There was a short, hard silence, broken only by the sound of Tavi's quill scratching on paper.

"Excuse me?" said a woman's voice. It was a quiet voice, one used to speaking in soft tones and whispers, but to Isana's ears, it carried such malice and barely contained rage that she actually flinched away from it.

"Oh," Tavi said. "I beg your pardon. You aren't the valet."

"No," said the woman's voice. "I am-"

"Did the valet send my breakfast with you by any chance?" Tavi asked, his tone innocent and friendly. "I'm starving."

"He did not," said the cold voice.

"I'm sure he meant to," Tavi said. "Do you think you could yell up the stairs and see if it's on the w-"

There was a loud, sharp sound of impact-a hand being slammed down onto the surface of Tavi's desk, Isana judged. There was a rustling, sliding sound of a neat stack of pages slithering off the edge of the desk and onto the floor.

"You are not funny," said the cold voice. "And I will cut your throat before I tolerate any more of it. Do you understand me?"

Isana shifted position slightly. She couldn't see the woman Tavi was talking to, but she could see his face in profile. He sat in his chair, hands on his desk, and regarded the speaker with a calm, remote expression. There was no mockery to it. There wasn't anything to it, despite the fact that his life had just been threatened, and it chilled Isana a little to see that expression on his face. He appeared to be relaxed and confident, and she couldn't catch even a hint of his true emotions.

"I understand," Tavi said quietly, "that if you continue to show disrespect unbecoming a soldier, ignoring even basic military courtesy-such as knocking on a commanding officer's door before entering-and speaking to me in that tone, I'll have you bound to a flogging post until the ants can crawl up your hair to get at your eyes."

There was another pause. Then the woman's voice said, "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Or care, particularly," Tavi said.

"My name," she said, "is Navaris."

Tavi's expression never flickered, but this time Isana sensed a pulse of surprised recognition, and then a low current of tightly controlled fear.

Tavi leaned forward, and said in a congenial murmur, "It's possible that playing singulare for the Senator has not brought you the fame you had hoped it would. Never heard of you." His eyes stayed steady for another strained, silent moment. "Well, Navaris. When you first walked in, I assumed you were here for the decor and the charming company. Now, though, I'm thinking that you might have had something else in mind."

"Yes," came the answer.

"How exciting. Maybe you even had a specific reason to visit."

"Yes," Navaris growled.

He glanced past Navaris, eyes scanning the room. "And these four. I take it they're here to help."

"Yes."

Tavi sighed and sat back in his chair. "Navaris, this will go a lot faster if I don't have to play guessing games." His voice went flat. "Tell me what you want."

There was another long silence, and Isana realized with a sudden flash of panic that as Tavi had sat back in his chair, his hand had slipped around behind it, and his fingers were on the hilt of a dagger that had been secured to the chair's back.

There was something thick, even drunken, about Navaris's voice when she finally answered. "Senator Arnos sent me to gather up your intelligence reports on recent activity in the occupied territory. You are to turn over to me every record, every copy, and every list of information sources for the Senator's personal review."

Tavi shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid I can't help you."

"These are orders," Navaris replied. "If you refuse to obey them, it's treason."

"Which is punishable by death," Tavi said. "I vaguely recall reading as much, somewhere."

"Give us the papers," she said. "Or you are under arrest."

Isana's heart pounded hard in her chest.

"I don't think so," Tavi said. "You see, Navaris, I'm afraid you don't have a leg to stand on, legally speaking. You're a singulare. You aren't an officer. You sure as the crows aren't my commanding officer. In fact, you aren't in my chain of command at all."

Navaris's voice came out as if through clenched teeth. "These are the Senator's orders."

"Oh," Tavi said, nodding as though at a sudden revelation. "Then they're in writing. Let me see them, and the papers are all yours." He lifted both eyebrows. "You do have legal orders, do you not?"

After a brief pause, Navaris said, "You saw him. He resisted arrest."

There were several harsh, masculine mutters.

"Get your fingers off that sword, singulare," Tavi said, his voice an abrupt whip crack of authority. "Draw that weapon against me, and I'll gut you with it."

There was the sound of several blades slithering from their sheaths, and Isana leapt to her feet in sudden terror.

A new voice broke into the conversation. "If I were you," Araris said in a level tone, "I would do as he says."

"Or not," said a bluff, cheerful voice that was laced with a desire for violence-Antillar Maximus. "If you all want to dance, I'm game."

"None of them got to draw steel before we did," said a third voice, that of a young man Isana didn't recognize. "If things start up now, they won't even get their weapons clear of their sheaths. That doesn't seem fair."

"Right you are, Crassus," Max said. "Right you are."

Isana felt a surge of murderous fury from the room-Navaris, she felt certain. It was a white-hot anger, something that seethed with malice and hate so intense that it almost seemed a separate entity. It was an irrational, bloodthirsty thing, a kind of madness that Isana had only encountered twice in her entire life.

For a moment, Isana felt sure that Navaris would attack in any case. But then that raging fire suddenly died into stillness, snuffed out as quickly as a candle dropped into a pond.