“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.

The two scholars looked at each other, and the Yahadut put his hand on his heart and bowed, as if granting his space to the younger.

The younger man stepped forward to the head of the table, and waved his hand. As soon as he gathered power, Gabriel’s adamantine shield of gold exploded from the aethereal.

Gabriel was already out of his chair, his hand on his sword.

The man froze. “I mean no harm!” he cried in heavily accented Archaic.

Gabriel saw that both Blanche and Clarissa had swords in their hands.

Michael had a small shield of his own; he had clearly been learning. “Magister al-Shirazi,” he said, his voice attenuated by the shield. “It is not acceptable to summon power in the presence of the emperor without permission.”

The magister released his crafted ops. “My apologies, my lord,” he said.

Gabriel rose and bowed. “I think we’re all a little on edge,” he admitted. He put back his shields, pried his hand off the sweat-stained grip of his war sword, and forced himself to smile. “It has been a difficult time,” he said with a shrug, and folded himself back into his chair.

Considerably paler, the magister was nonetheless unshaken. “My lord,” he began again. “I would like to perform a few small demonstrations . . .”

“Be my guest,” Gabriel said. He smiled in what he hoped was a companionable way while trying to quell his shaking hands.