An hour ago, Djola would have chuckled with her. There were too few pirates. That’s why they didn’t rule the world. That’s why Urzula and Samina left the isolationist floating cities and married Azizi and Djola. Lahesh diplomacy: marry the enemy. Urzula could get word to Samina. They were friends.

“Basawili, Queen, I need your help.” His tongue finally cooperated. He spoke Empire vernacular.

“Basawili,” Urzula smiled sadly, undulating in schemes. The guards gaped at her sensual meditation, distracted. Urzula licked her lips. She understood politicking. “Djola would speak with me and I would speak with him.”

The guards exchanged glances. “We must get to the docks.” The scrappy one shifted from foot to foot. “We don’t want to miss the tide.”

“You won’t. I know the sea better than you.” Urzula waved them off.

The guards slumped against the railing on the bridge. Lilot, chief cook—and Urzula’s true love according to whisper and gossip—strode out of the citadel maze. Outside Council’s shadows Lilot was a bold presence, even wrapped in veils and robes for travel. Lilot’s lips were tinged green, and she had red dots above her eyelids. They meant something Djola had forgotten. Lilot wasn’t as sultry or compelling as Urzula, but she was just as formidable.

Urzula and Azizi’s son and daughter accompanied her, children, ten and thirteen years old. They had their mother’s fierce features, yet were lanky and lean like Azizi. They’d have been taller than Lilot, except for the cloth wrap that crowned the cook’s head. The children also wore travel clothes. Urzula kissed each child. Then Lilot shooed them across the bridge with bird kites to fly.

“Lilot tells me your troubles.” Urzula scrutinized Djola. Lilot heard everything that went on at Council and reported to her. “You’ve been wronged.”

“Get word to Samina, through Rano. Tell him not to fight and her not to worry.” Djola spoke slowly. “Tell her to take the family to Kyrie’s realm.”

Urzula nodded. “Lilot takes the children to my niece’s ship. I miss them already.”

Djola swallowed fear. “I miss Tessa, Bal, and Quint.”

“Arkhys City is no place for our little ones,” Lilot said. “The masters are rotten.”

“Not all of them.” Urzula gestured at the cook. “Lilot wants to poison half the stone-wood table, but I say that would mean war.” She laughed. Lilot and the guards laughed with her. Urzula stepped close to Djola. “If there is war, nobody wins.”

“Fool.” Lilot snapped fingers in Djola’s face. “Why not say what they want to hear?”

“Lies and illusions won’t save us,” Djola replied.

“Neither will spit on poison sand,” Lilot muttered.