Clarissa de Sartres looked out the window. Her marshal came in, and behind him was a man in a Yahadut scholar’s cap and a long gown of spotless black velvet. With him was a very handsome man with a heavy black beard and long Ifriquy’an robes. With him were two mamluks.

Blanche indicated the scholar with a graceful wave of her arm. She wore scent, and she had been practicing that gesture. “Magisters Qatb al-Din al-Shirazi,” she said, “and Yusuf Bin Maymum.”

He rose and bowed to them both. The Ifriquy’an was not much older than he was—perhaps thirty—and very young to be titled magister. Of course, Morgon Mortirmir was only eighteen . . .

Michael had carefully rid himself of his wife’s feet and was now leaning against the carved stone hood over the great fire hearth. On it, Saint Michael was killing a dragon.

Sukey took a seat at the long table. “I brought them,” she said. “From Venike.”

“She also brought in Convoy Four,” Blanche added.

Gabriel was tempted to roll his eyes. I know. I’m the captain.

He looked around—Michael, Clarissa, Blanche, Kaitlin, Sukey, Pierre La Porte, the two scholars, a handful of household servants, the mamluks, and Michael’s squire, Lord Robin. He thought, I trained most of you. Why do you suddenly assume I don’t know what’s going on? Yet at the same time, he acknowledged that they were trying very hard to show him that they knew their jobs; Sukey was proud of having had her first command; Blanche was working to be an empress and not a washerwoman, Clarissa was working at being a queen, and he needed them all. Everyone needed everyone.

“Ser Alison has changed her plans somewhat,” Lord Robin said deferentially, and he handed Gabriel a flimsy with a trace of blood on it.

“Bird injured?” Gabriel asked. At some very real level, the fate of the world rode on the wingtips of the imperial messenger service.

“C.2 was attacked by something. He survived to make it here, and he’s being healed.” Robin glanced at Blanche.

Blanche nodded at the two robed men. “Our guests are astrologers,” she said. She was clearly already used to being the head of the meeting. Gabriel chewed on that a moment.

“I have been trying to catch you for weeks,” the younger man said.

The Yahadut scratched under his cap. “I, also,” he admitted.

Gabriel couldn’t help himself; the impulse was too strong. “I was expecting three wise men,” he said. “But not until after the baby is born.”

Kaitlin heaved with laughter, her beautiful complexion temporarily splotched. Most of the others either looked away, or looked at him. Blanche stared at him.

“Eh?” the Yahadut asked. He glanced at Kaitlin. “This was meant to be humourous?”

“In a blasphemous kind of way,” Gabriel said.

“Don’t let him interrupt you,” Blanche said. “It’s just his way.”

Gabriel sat back.