Mortirmir suddenly embraced his captain. “You are so close,” he murmured.

“I know,” Gabriel said.

“Don’t cast. You can never cast again. You must not . . .”

Gabriel’s smile was distinctly unsaintly. “We’ll see,” he said.

“I should touch up your . . . disguise,” Mortirmir said.

“Save it,” Gabriel said. “In a few minutes, I will cut it free.”

“You will burn like a torch,” Mortirmir said.

Gabriel nodded. “Yep,” he said.

In the end, he shook hands with his squire and his pages.

“Kneel, Anne,” he said. He knighted her, with Ser Michael standing close by, and Sauce just coming into the pavilion.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying, and she was mortified, which made the emperor smile.

Then he stepped out into the sunset of this world and knighted a dozen more young men and women.

Lucca appeared with a pile of messages; Ser Michael started through them and gave a cough.

“Tell me,” Gabriel said.

“Towbray has stormed the palace in Harndon,” he said. “Lady Mary was left as a surrogate for the queen. It appears he killed her.” He looked stunned. “My fucking father,” he spat. “Christ, I feel unclean.”

“Michael, do not, I pray, take this personally. Michael!” Gabriel snapped as if the younger man were still his squire.

His first squire stiffened.

“I need you. Here. In command. Forget your father. He is nothing. This is the battle of our time.” Gabriel waved at the gate. “Fetch me Bad Tom, please.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Michael said. He went out to the tent, his face set.

“Lucca,” Gabriel said. “I need a favour.”

“Anything, my lord.”

“Go to Harndon and kill the Earl of Towbray. Don’t even make it look like an accident. And Lucca, if he ever asks you, tell Michael that I ordered it.” Gabriel smiled.

“Now, or after the battle?” Lucca asked.

“After will be fine, but do it,” Gabriel said.

“Ser Maria, my lord,” said Ser Anne Woodstock.

Gabriel spent a minute on his gauntlets, and then looked at his gold bascinet and sniffed the lining, which was very clean.

Anne showed him his sword. He touched it, making sure that it was sharp at the tip and dull where he liked to grab it when he was half-swording. He noted that it now bore a small Gothic letter M under Master Pye’s maker’s mark.

“Highness,” Ser Maria said, and made a full reverence. “Master Brown and Master Lucca and I have been made an offer.”

Master Brown, as unremarkable as ever, bowed. “My lord,” he said. “The salamanders have invited us to their home.”

Gabriel nodded. “Remarkable,” he said.

“I think so,” said Ser Maria.

“I have given Master Lucca a little task to accomplish first,” the emperor said with his most annoying smile. “I think both of you might accompany him. But then, yes, I think you should go with my writ and seal. Master Julius?”

“I’m writing,” he said. “Ambassador?”