“Compliments of the Lord Seneschal Vanorius, sir, and there’s been word from Riva.”

Tavi lifted his eyebrows. “A watersending?”

“Yes, si—” The centurion’s eyes had flicked past Tavi to Kitai, and the words choked in his throat. He coughed sharply, then inclined his head and saluted again. “Ah. Please excuse the intrusion, lady Ambassador.”

Tavi checked, just to be sure the gown was still on. It was. But with Kitai, you never really knew. He couldn’t blame Ramus for faltering, though. She looked stunning. “Word from Riva, centurion?” Tavi prompted.

“Yes, sir,” the man said. “Lord Aquitaine reports that the city is under attack.”

Tavi blinked and arched an eyebrow, permitting himself no further sign of surprise. “Really?”

“How?” Kitai demanded sharply.

“The message wasn’t a long one, sir,” the centurion replied. “My lord Vanorius said to tell you that some kind of interference ended it almost before it had begun. Just that Aquitaine appeared, in his visage and voice, having somehow driven through the interdiction the vord have kept on watersendings until, um, recently, Your Highness.”

“Well, then,” Tavi said. He inhaled once, nodded to himself, then glanced sharply over his shoulder at Kitai.

She nodded, already drawing on a dark traveling cloak. “I will speak to her immediately.”

“Thank you,” Tavi said. As Kitai left he said, to Ramus, “Centurion, please give the Lord Seneschal my compliments and inform him that our plans to depart have just been moved up by thirty-six hours. I’ll be moving the troops tonight. The city must be prepared to receive the auxiliaries and refugees a little sooner than we expected.”

“Yes, sir,” Ramus said, but his eyes were hard with suspicion.

Tavi eyed him. Ramus was only one man—but he was the kind of man other legionares listened to. The Antillans and the Canim were about to be left alone with one another in hideously dangerous proximity. This was an opportunity to plant a useful seed, one he’d sown as often as possible over the past days. “Centurion,” Tavi said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d speak your mind.”

“They’re Canim, sir,” the legionare spat. “They’re animals. I fought their raiders in my time in the Legions. I’ve seen what they do to us.”

Tavi considered his answer for a moment before giving it. “I could say that the Legions make use of animals in war on a daily basis, Ramus,” he said, finally. “But the truth of the matter is that they are their own people. They are our enemies, and they make no pretense otherwise.” He smiled, baring his teeth. “But we both have a bigger problem today. I’ve fought with the Canim personally, both against them and beside them, centurion, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’ve spent more time in the field against them than any Aleran commander in history. They’re vicious, savage, and merciless. And they keep their word.”