Even while flying, Gabriel shook his head.

He didn’t know, and he was about to find out.

Under Ariosto’s magnificent wings, Count Zac saluted with a golden mace and rode north toward Arles. His cavalrymen were the very tip of a long lance of men who were forming in a camp that had almost ceased to be, stripped to the ground in an hour. The fires were out, the last horse shod. Gabriel touched Ariosto’s side and his mount began a lazy turn north. Just over the next ridge there was dust—Sauce and her staff, coming to take command.

Just off to his right, the Company Saint Catherine was unfurled. Men were ready to march.

The dice were flung.

Gabriel had time to organize a little food; to change from flying clothes to his red jupon and silk hose. Then, with Blanche on his arm, he returned to the great hall, and bowed deeply to Lady Clarissa, who was, if anything, even younger than the emperor, her brown hair and clear skin somehow magnified by short rations. She was as thin as any of her people, and her brown wool gown was almost as simple as that of her maids, except that it was covered with embroidery in brown silk thread; like Blanche, she wore a knight’s belt of plaques to show her authority, but unlike Blanche, from her belt hung a sword.

Blanche leaned over. “I want a sword, too,” she said. “And lessons in how to use it.”

Gabriel made a note on his wax tablets. And showed it to Michael, who had the grace not to laugh.

Clarissa smiled when she saw Gabriel and even more for Blanche and Kaitlin. She waved for them to join her on the dais of the hall, where heavy chairs had been set for all of them, including Ser Michael.

Below the dais, Jules Kronmir, in green, moved small wooden blocks on a large map of Arles and Galle even as a pair of monks worked on the map itself from another table, adding details and cursing when they rubbed wet ink with their elbows.

“It’s done,” Gabriel said. “Tom’s on his way here with the household and the Harndoner guilds. Sauce and the duchess will have the rest. Master Kronmir, I understand that you wish to accompany Sauce? If so, you have about an hour to prepare.”

Kronmir nodded. “I can be little help against the Necromancer,” he admitted. “I am increasingly concerned about reports from Etrusca. Have you read the material in the yellow tab?”

Kronmir had organized all the imperial correspondence by colour code. Yellow was the most secret, for the simple reason that Kronmir thought most people would expect red to be the most secret.

Gabriel nodded. But he said, “A synopsis, please?”

Kronmir shrugged and beckoned to Mortirmir, who looked naughty and produced a field of shimmering, sparkling black.

“I thought we didn’t use black?” Gabriel asked.

“We didn’t,” Mortirmir said with adolescent insolence. “Look where that got us. I’m practicing.”