“Provided nothing else happens between now and the Regatta,” Isla said with gritted teeth. “I don’t like this, Kordas, but you’ve made up your mind, so I shan’t bother giving you a piece of mine. So I’ll tell you how far we’ve gotten here. We got the Portal open. We can soon have the Foothold established. Ivar has crossed, and found a suitable place so quickly, that is so perfect, it seems the gods arranged it for us. There are ruins there, Ivar says—remains of a tower, and docks going into the water. He thinks it was at least a town, maybe bigger, once, but it’s all overgrown, now. The water isn’t salten, and it’s deep.” Even through the scrying, Kordas looked amazed. “Today we’ll send our mob of mages across to actually build the Gates, one for foot traffic and then one for boats. Then Jonaton will cross with Ivar, and that Healer-cousin of Endicrag’s and some support to attune them. Woodsmen crews will clear land and I think maybe some of those ruins could be reclaimed. Then we’ll start the Plan transfers proper.” She shook her head. “There’s a lot that can go wrong, Kordas. There is still a lot that can go wrong.”

“I know that,” he said steadily.

“We still don’t know why the Emperor wanted you at the Palace,” she reminded him.

“I know that too,” he said. “Which is why I am counting on you and Hakkon and the rest to see the Plan through if I can’t.”

Delia felt her stomach turn to water at that moment. It had never occurred to her that Kordas could fail.

It had never occurred to her that he might not come back.

“Between all of you, you know the Plan in its entirety. I made sure—just in case. Meanwhile, get the crews and essentials over soon. That’s enough for now,” Kordas said, with a wary look at the Doll, which nodded. “Three days from now. We shouldn’t do this too often, and we should do it at irregular intervals. Never make a pattern for someone to discover.”

“Gods be with you,” said Isla.

“And with you,” said her husband. And they both waved their hands across their mirrors at the same time, breaking the spells.

—

“That was exhausting,” said Kordas, drooping in his seat. “I don’t know why—scrying isn’t that hard at home.”

“Because the amount of clean magic energy available to you here is nil, my Lord,” whispered Star. “You powered every moment from within your own internal resources.”

“Well, that makes sense.” He made a face. “And it makes things damned inconvenient.”

“It is what it is,” Beltran said unexpectedly. “Is there any way you can use my help the next time?”