A month ago, on the Midsummer solstice, an alliance of princely and mage House troops under the command of Lord Marius had fought Camjiata’s army to a standstill at the city of Lemovis. Both sides had been forced to withdraw without a clear victor. Lord Marius had pulled his troops back to Lutetia to resupply and to wait for help from Rome.

“The Romans have fielded their legions at last,” said the mansa. “They have taken their time, considering we princes and mages have borne the brunt of the monster’s aggression for four months.” He looked down the length of the table. “Andevai, by the quiver of your eyebrow I discern you have a comment you wish to make. You may speak.”

Vai’s gaze skipped to me, where I stood holding a carafe, and back to his master. “Mansa, no useful campaign can be planned without taking into account that the general is using fire mages.”

The mansa’s nephew leaned forward with a sneer. “What proof have you for this insane assertion? To call fire is to die in fire.” He turned to the mansa. “Uncle, the village boy is either trying to impress you with lies or is simply too ignorant to know he is wrong.”

No wonder he hated Vai, for no man at the table could mistake the privileged place at which the mansa had seated the village boy.

“What do you think?” the mansa asked the table at large.

Vai sat in perfect rigid silence as they debated the question, some mocking, some serious.

To my surprise Viridor spoke in Vai’s defense, exactly as if he had not betrayed him. “I have seen these troubling incidents also. We cannot ignore them.”

“Blacksmiths forge weapons, and weapons are used by troops,” said the mansa’s nephew, pressing his point with the snicker of a belligerent man who believes he is being challenged by a weaker opponent. “That is not the same as mages who wield fire magic, which is an impossibility. The people in the Amerikes gulled him with tricks and illusions. One such as he cannot help believing anything he is told.”

Vai fixed his gaze on his hands, which he had laid flat on the table as if to remind himself not to clench them into fists. “I do not believe this is going on. I know it. Mansa, I have given you numerous examples, the most obvious of which are the burned estates and palaces of enemy princes, and the burn-scarred bodies of dead soldiers.”

The mansa said, “Burning down buildings is the work of the angry mob. It needs no magic. Likewise, men will deface the bodies of those they hate and fear.”

Vai nodded. “It is true that to tell the difference between what is begun by a fire mage and finished by angry men is difficult.”