“All right.” Marcus sighed again. “Assume you’re right. I’ve had plenty of chance to do something bad before now. And I haven’t.”

Magnus gave him a brittle smile. “If your intentions are peaceful, show yourself.”

Marcus stared at him, tempted again to confess. But that wouldn’t serve the best interests of the First Aleran or the Princeps. If he revealed himself to Magnus, he would certainly be arrested, assuming he was not executed immediately once his true identity was known. Of course, if Magnus worked things out, that would happen anyway.

But he hadn’t done it yet.

Marcus growled a well-used obscenity beneath his breath. “Good night, Magnus.”

He stalked into his tent and tossed the flap back with unnecessary force. It was as close as he could come to slamming a door. Then he kept his attention on the ground and waited until the old Cursor’s footsteps had retreated.

He reached for the lacings of his armor with a sigh and was startled half out of his wits when a Cane’s basso voice rumbled quietly, from the blackness at the back of his tent, “It is good that you did not let him in. It would have been awkward.”

Marcus turned and muttered his lone little furylamp to life at its weakest intensity. By its dim golden glow, he made out the massive form of a Canim Hunter, crouching on his cot, making the suspended canvas mattress sag with his weight. Marcus’s heart was racing at the surprise, and he stood with one hand on the hilt of his gladius. He faced the Cane for a few seconds, then asked, quietly, “Sha, isn’t it?”

The reddish-furred Cane inclined his head. “The same.”

Marcus grunted. Then he started unlacing his armor again. If Sha had meant to do him harm, it would have happened already. “I take it you aren’t here on a hunt.”

“Indeed,” the Cane said. “There are facts it would be advantageous for Tavar to have.”

“Why not go tell him then? Or write a letter.”

Sha flicked his ears casually to one side, a gesture reminiscent of an Aleran’s shrug. “They are of an internal nature. No Cane of honor could, in good conscience, reveal them to an enemy.” The Hunter’s teeth showed in a sudden flash of white. “And I could not reach the Tavar. He was engaged in a mating ritual and heavily guarded.”

“And you’ve passed sensitive information through me before,” Marcus said.

Sha nodded his head again.

Marcus nodded. “Tell me. I’ll be sure he knows.”

“How much do you know of our bloodspeakers?”

“The ritualists?” Marcus shrugged. “I know I don’t like them much.”

Sha’s ears twitched in amusement. “They are important to our society in that they serve the makers.”

“Makers,” Marcus said. “Your civilians.”