I chose my words carefully. “I would not have sent him away unless I could no longer trust him to do what was best for the Empire and his people. I need those in battle I can trust. We don’t have a lot of room for error.”

It was the truth – as close as I could get to it – though it seemed to bolster their confidence only a little. Naming the Shardless Few as my enemy would garner me little sympathy, no matter how true it was. Saying that he’d lied to me, that he’d been a spy, would only make me sound too self-involved.

“Better to have those you rely on by your side,” Ragan said, his youthful face solemn. “It’s for the best, I’m sure.”

Urame pressed her lips together – she knew the odds better than most. “I hope this works,” she said.

“Thank you for your trust in me,” I said, the bag of shards still in my hand. “I did come here intending for none of your shards to be used again.”

“And I intended not to be victim to a siege of constructs,” she said lightly. “I’m ordering as many of the farmers inside the palace gates as can fit, and telling the rest to go to the harbor or a neighboring town. Yeshan, your general, has arrived, along with her troops. Keep your word, save Gaelung and I’ll count it a fair bargain.”

She bowed, I inclined my head and she left. A faint, musty smell rose from the corpse. However fresh it was, it couldn’t have been that fresh. It was a middle-aged man, a bloody wound at his temple, his eyes closed and face slack. I went to the desk, took out a piece of paper and began to write out some basic commands, trying to figure out how to best use my sixteen shards. I paused, my pen above the paper.

Ragan hadn’t left. His ossalen wound about his feet.

“Did you need something?” I said, twisting in my chair.

He lifted a finger. “Ah, it’s not what I need. Not exactly. I thought we should discuss strategy. If the army attacks tomorrow, we may need your skills. Your Alanga ones.”

There were too many things to hold in my head at once. I rubbed my temples. “Ragan, I appreciate your help and that you’re here at all, I really do. But the fact of the matter is – I don’t know much of what I’m capable of. I’m relying on you.” I still remembered the guard spitting on Meraya’s body, the word “Alanga” like a curse. They wouldn’t accept me if I revealed what I was.

“You should practice,” he said.

I looked at him and then the pouch of shards and the corpse.

“When you have the time,” he amended. “I’ll draw up some of my own plans.”