His stomach gurgled and twisted in knots. One fine thing about being up in the prow was that the ship’s sails hid him from view of the stern. He’d already lost what little breakfast he’d had over the rail with no one the wiser. And, with the Slive running out in front of the two columns of ships sailing in neat lines behind them, the reputation of the invincibility of the House of Gaius was neatly preserved.

“See?” Tavi choked out a moment later. “Little bumps like that pose no problem.”

Max grinned easily. “Demos sent me up to tell you that he suggests we stop for a meal in the next hour or so. His woodcrafters are getting tired.”

“We don’t have time,” Tavi said.

“There will still be plenty of time to break our ships into tiny bits of kindling before we get to Phrygia,” Max said. “No sense in doing everything the first day.”

Tavi glanced back at him wryly. He took a deep breath, thinking, and nodded. “Very well. At his discretion, Demos will signal the fleet to heave to for a rest.” He squinted ahead against the glare of daylight on ice and snow. “How far have we come?”

Max held up his hands and crafted a farseeing before his eyes, peering at a Shieldwall tower they were passing. A number was carved into its stone side, over the entry door for the troops stationed there. “Five hundred and thirty-six miles. In seven hours.” He shook his head, and said, his voice wistful. “That’s the next best thing to flying.”

Tavi glanced back at Max, thoughtfully. “Better, really. We’re moving more troops than every flier in Alera could carry. Think of what it could mean.”

“What?” Max said. “Moving troops around faster?”

“Or food,” Tavi said. “Or supplies. Or trade goods.”

Max lifted both eyebrows, then lowered them, frowning. “You could move freight from one end of the Wall to the other in a few days. Even on causeways, it’s a six-week trip to Phrygia from Antillus. You have to go all the way down to Alera Imperia, then...” His voice trailed off, and he coughed. “Um. Sorry.”

Tavi shook his head, forcing a small smile onto his mouth. “It’s all right. No use pretending it didn’t happen. My grandfather knew what he was doing. I probably would have done the same.”

“Taurg crap,” Max said scornfully. “No. Your grandfather killed hundreds of thousands of his own people, Tavi.”

Tavi felt a hot surge of anger in his chest, and he glowered at Max.

Max faced him, one eyebrow raised. “What?” he asked in a reasonable tone. “You gonna fight me every time I tell you the truth? I’m not scared of you, Calderon.”

Tavi gritted his teeth and looked away. “He died for the Realm, Max.”