“Of course the strike did a lot of damage, but the area is still very well preserved,” Beq said. “It’s on par with Grace in terms of the discoveries that have come out of it. That’s why the Republic maintains a presence.”

“How many Legionaries in the garrison?” Tanax said, chiming in.

“Ten, Agathios,” the soldier answered. “And approximately one thousand Auxiliaries.”

The door swung open. Four more Legionaries waited, two on each side, blaster rifles at the ready. Beyond them was a long line of more conventional soldiers, in steel breastplates and round caps, spears at their sides as they stood at strict attention. Between them, a short, heavily built man in flowing purple-and-gray silk offered a deep bow.

“Agathia,” he said. His voice was moist and breathy. “You honor me with your presence. Please convey my utmost thanks to the Council for their assistance. I am Dux Raskos, and I hold this garrison on behalf of the people of the Republic.”

He straightened up and smiled. His teeth were a horror, brown and splintery, gleaming here and there with precious metals like coins shining out of a sewer. Maya felt an overpowering urge to keep her distance, but Tanax had already started forward, and she had no choice but to follow. Beq and Varo came after her, the arcanist looking curiously at everything, the scout seeming distinctly ill at ease.

“Thank you for your service, Dux Raskos,” Tanax said, with a shallow bow of his own. “I have a message for you from the Council.”

“Of course.” Raskos took the letter, a slim envelope, from Tanax. The dux wore a fixed smile. “My gratitude.”

“Until we receive further instructions, I am to place my team at your disposal. I hope we will be able to resolve your difficulties.”

“I have no doubt you will,” Raskos said. His smile grew more genuine. “But that can wait. I understand you’re coming directly from another assignment, and you must be tired. Let us see to your accommodations.”

*

The Gate room, it turned out, was deep underground, connected by a broad spiral staircase with the rest of the Spike. After several revolutions, it emerged into a large, luxuriantly appointed hall, where a phalanx of liveried servants waited like a second contingent of guards. The dux waved his hands like he was conducting an orchestra, and four dark-coated footmen peeled off to stand expectantly in front of Maya and the others. It took Maya a moment to realize that the servant was waiting for her pack.

“I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a small gathering this evening,” the dux said, as the travelers handed over their gear. “Everyone in Deepfire is eager to make your acquaintance, though of course only the best people will be invited. I trust that will be satisfactory?”