The room was dim. Beyond, the tavern buzzed at full pitch. Knowing there were trolls about, I left my sword tucked under the mattress. I wrapped myself in shadows and crept downstairs. Twilight danced into evening. Lamps burned everywhere. I spotted Vai and the others as they walked in and washed up at the altar set out for ablutions and offerings. They settled at a table set up in an alcove at the far side of the trolls’ courtyard, tucked next to the archway that led out to the street and thus as far from the kitchens as possible. A lamp set at Chartji’s left arm lit the table. Something about trolls throttled Vai’s cold magic around them, just as dragons had.

Vai had his back to me, so he did not see me pad up behind them. Such breeze as there was blew into my face, so Rory, sitting beside Vai, could not smell me. Vai was laughing at something Rory had just said. His sociable demeanor made him seem another man, the one I had gotten to know in Expedition, the one whose embraces I cherished, the one I loved.

“Show me the ice lenses again,” said Kehinde with a pleasant smile she had certainly not displayed earlier. “I’m amazed Chartji brought them all the way from Havery packed in straw and moss and they did not melt.”

He fished out three leather cords and pulled one off over his head, handing it to Kehinde. “This one is likely flawed, but the other two should work.”

“Does the mansa know about the ice lenses?” Bee asked sharply.

He glanced down, shoulders tensing. Rory nudged Vai with his knee.

“No, the mansa does not know,” said Vai stiffly.

“Are you going to tell him?” Bee pressed.

His chin came up, but remarkably his voice remained level. “Not yet. If I have to face James Drake, I will need the ice lens. And I plan to face him. All of you realize, don’t you, that allowing Catherine to go after him is a death sentence for her?”

“Having seen Cat in a fight—” began Brennan.

“Catherine can certainly take care of herself in a fight. Or against an ocean full of sharks, for that matter. You simply do not comprehend the dangers of dealing with a fully fledged fire mage. Drake almost killed her once. Lord of All, Beatrice. You ought to know better! You saw how she was burned.”

“It’s true,” Bee muttered.

Kehinde twirled the lens as she examined its icy gleam. “May I touch it, or will the warmth of my skin distort the lens?”

“That one is flawed, so it makes no matter if you touch it.”

She ran a finger along its curved face. “How do you keep them from melting? I can speculate on several mechanisms, but I am no cold mage.”

“I mean no offense by saying the secret belongs to those who remain silent.”