Her ancestral chorus stirred and Capitana Falconé shimmered in the breach like a reflection on the surface of a still pool. There are players in the game besides l’impératrice. Many would pay for your services.

Isabelle splashed the plane of the breach, like throwing a stone into the water. The space rippled and Falconé disappeared. Isabelle thanked the saints she could do that now. She would not betray l’Empire or its great project. Grand Leon had envisioned a world where all sorts of saintborn could coexist in one culture, under one crown. It was a vision Sireen had continued and expanded, and to which Isabelle had attached rights for the clayborn. That dream, fragile as it was in the face of concerted, ruthless opposition from the entrenched nobility, was worth defending. As long as Sireen promoted it, Isabelle supported her.

Oblivious to Isabelle’s internal debate, Marie continued, “Bitterlich has taken over Rebecca’s lessons and is teaching her how to use her sorcery. Djordji has been swapping shifts with me and swapping old war stories with Commandant Turenne, a man who is very impressed with all the battles he would have won if only he’d been in the right place at the right time instead of captaining a desk.”

“Rear admiral of the Wingchair Fleet,” Isabelle said. She’d encountered that kind of officer often enough. In at least one past life she’d been such a man. The memory was worthy of a good cringe.

“According to Djordji, Turenne is a man without faction in Rocher Royale. He hates all politicians equally, and he’s not fond of clayborn, Seelenjägers, Fenice, Glasswalkers, or any sorcerer without a bloodshadow.”

“So how is this very special person our problem?”

Marie hesitated as if looking for the right words, then settled on the blunt ones. “Turenne apparently intends to treat the recall order as an arrest warrant, complete with armed guards, restrictions on your movement, and limiting your access to allies. According to Djordji, he is angling to take some credit for your arrest and capture.”

Isabelle bridled at that. “Is he insane? The whole point of a recall order is that you are supposed to present yourself voluntarily to the Crown. Does he imagine Sireen will be pleased?”

“No, but there are plenty of people in Fleet Command who were unhappy with your promotion. It’s them he seeks to impress. He’s been trying to convince Djordji to support him. A good word from an Old Hand can make a career, and he’s hoping to be promoted off this rock.”

“And what has Djordji said to this?” Isabelle asked.

“Djordji hasn’t said anything. As long as Turenne thinks Djordji might help him, Djordji has leverage.”