“If no one else, it will be me,” he promised, reading the request for exactly what it was. Then he deemed it time for a change of subject. “Now what else have you found in those Chronicles?”

“All the routes that your people have ever used to come at us.” She reached under her cot, and pulled out a roll which proved to be a map. “I traced them all on this.”

“Very useful.” The hilly, sometimes mountainous terrain along the Border only permitted so many practical routes for an invading force, and here they all were, or at least, as much about them as the Valdemarans knew, since most of Karse was unknown land to them. But he knew the Border, if not as well as he’d like, certainly better than anyone here, and perhaps with the help of some of the FarSeeing Heralds or the ones with Animal Mindspeech who could see through the eyes of a high-soaring hawk, he would be able to fill in the terrain on the other side a bit, and they’d know which paths and passes to watch.

“Myste, I shall be sure and let it be known that you are monumentally useful,” he said. And was rewarded with a genuine smile. “Now I shall go and present this to Sendar so that I can do that.”

“And I shall write up the next lot of notes to dispatch.” She tucked her legs under the tray and pulled it toward her, and that was how he left her, head down, lamplight shining down on it, an island of peace in the midst of frantic preparations for war.

* * *

But his night was not yet over. He went to Selenay’s tent, and found her toying with the remains of her dinner—a dinner which, for the most part, looked uneaten. Her two guardians were right with her, and her tent was ringed with regular Guardsmen.

He nodded with satisfaction as they challenged him, then sent one of their number to fetch someone from Selenay’s bodyguards who could verify his identity. That was quite right; they should never assume that someone was who he said he was if they didn’t know him on sight. One of the two bodyguards recognized him the moment she put her head out of the tent, of course. Only then was he allowed inside the perimeter they had established.

Selenay gladly put aside the plate at his entrance. There were several lamps suspended overhead here, which didn’t matter, since the felt lining on the walls made it impossible for anyone to see silhouettes on the canvas. He noted the arrangement of the cot in the middle of the tent—now folded—with approval. “Is there any news?” she asked, her expression somber and a little pinched.

He shook his head. “That I have heard, nothing. But for you, a task I have.”