A quick glance over at Iván reveals that he’s watching Bruno’s feet too.

Finally Bruno’s pacing takes him down the line of recruits, far enough away that I dare lean toward Iván and whisper, “What happened?”

“The messenger has disappeared,” Iván whispers back.

“What?”

“He hasn’t shown up for work in two days. I asked around. The stable master considers his absence to be dereliction of duty, and the stable hand is no longer employed by the Royal Guard.”

Questions compete for dominance in my head, but Bruno is heading this way again and I’m forced to fall silent. His voice becomes louder, his words eager and fast, as he catalogs various types of polishing oils and whetstones, noting which ones perform best with which metal alloys.

As soon as Bruno is once again out of whispering earshot, I say, “Do you think someone realized he was a spy?”

“I have no idea. I just know he’s not there anymore, and he’s not welcome to return.”

“Then we’re cut off from Rosario.”

“We have to figure out another way to contact him.”

“It might be days . . .” I’m forced to hush as Bruno passes by. After a moment, I try again. “It might be days until we have a chance to leave the barracks.”

Ivan says, “Then we’ll have to sneak out in the middle of the night again.”

“No! Every time we do that, we put this whole mission at risk. What if we’re caught?”

“It would be worse if Rosario was poisoned because we couldn’t warn him.”

“The prince is smart. Well informed. He’ll know one of his assets is missing, and he’ll reestablish contact with us soon. We’re no use to him if we get cut.”

I look up at Iván to find him frowning deeply. He says, “I disagree. I think—”

“Would you two stop whispering?” says Itzal from his place nearby.

“Go flirt on your own time,” says one of the Basajuan recruits.

Bruno is suddenly looming over us all. “Is there a problem here?” he asks.

“No, sir!” Itzal says. “We were just wondering whether Basajuan steel is superior to that of Ciénega del Sur.” I send Itzal a grateful look.

Bruno seems pleased by the question. “Both regions produce excellent steel, but the mines of Ciénega del Sur occasionally yield iron ore with too many impurities—something having to do with being near the ocean, I’d wager—which makes it difficult to refine. You can’t go wrong with either, but given a choice, I’d take Basajuan.”

“Thank you for clarifying, sir,” Itzal says.

My mind is a muddle as Bruno finishes his lecture. Iván is right; we need to make sure Rosario knows to be looking for poison in all his food. But I’m right too; if we get caught sneaking around, it could mean instant dismissal from the Guard, which puts our whole assignment at risk. It’s the single most important thing right now, Rosario said. Don’t get cut. It was his primary order, the one we must obey above all others.