“The Emperor wants us all in competition against each other,” Kordas had told her. It all made a twisted sort of sense. If you were in competition with people who were your equals or slightly better, you’d be too busy to pay much attention to what the Emperor was (or was not) doing. And if you were spending your income on frivolities, you wouldn’t be building up your own personal army.

She shook her head to clear it of such uncomfortable thoughts. The Emperor was far away, and paid no attention to places as minor as Valdemar.

An intoxicating scent tickled her nose as she entered the high-ceilinged, pink-hued entrance hall of the manor, and instead of turning right to go to her own rooms, she went left, heading for the tower occupied by the six mages who called themselves “the Circle.” It smelled like—

As she opened the door into the tower, the glorious aroma enveloped her.

Sai was making stuffed bread.

Being mages, the Circle had no difficulty in and no compunction about making minor changes to their tower, and one of those changes had been a big oven next to the hearth, because Sai was a baker, and as good a baker as he was a mage, if not better. His particular specialty was stuffed bread. He insisted on doing everything himself, brandishing a giant knife and threatening to cut pieces off anyone who interfered with his work. So, at unpredictable intervals, he’d order servants to bring him the needful things from the kitchen, and the bottom room of the tower would become a bakery, with the finished loaves lined up on one of the built-in shelves that circled the wall. Those loaves didn’t stay there long. Sai didn’t care who ate the products of his genius, as long as his genius was acknowledged. Anyone was welcome to take what they wanted. And when Sai baked, anyone who could smell the loaves rushed to taste them.

Right now, there was a circle of five mages with contented looks on their faces, and as many pages waiting impatiently for some of the loaves to cool enough to snatch up and devour. Those would probably be the sweet loaves, stuffed with nut paste, chopped fruit, or other similar fillings. The pages tended to ignore the savory loaves, but she knew the ones filled with cheese on sight, and gravitated toward one.

When it was securely in her possession, she sat down on the floor out of the way and unashamedly began to devour it.

Sai took the last of his loaves out of the oven, put the stopper in the door, and turned toward the circle of urchins. “I suppose you want me to cool those loaves down for you?” he said, sounding cross.

The chorus of shameless begging rose to fill the room, and he made an abrupt gesture to silence it.