Behind Blanche’s shoulder was a woman Gabriel didn’t know, young, blond, and pretty. And behind her . . .

Gabriel lunged forward. “Sukey!” he said, and rose and gave his company head woman a hug.

Sukey was tall, more handsome than beautiful—tall and strong with jet-black hair that had a shockingly white stripe in it from an old injury. The white patch and the scar by her mouth combined to give her a piratical look.

But in years of marching with her, Gabriel had never seen her look so well rested. Nor so well dressed.

“Careful of my gown,” Sukey said with a grin. “It’s only a loan.”

Blanche kissed her on the cheek. “You loaned me your best once,” she said.

Sukey kissed her back with gusto. “It was a good investment, as I hope you’ll allow. One look at you an’ I knew the cap’n would keep you.”

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.