Malgiers stood there, looking stuffed. He saluted in much the same way a wind-up soldier might. “Major, I’m sorry to disturb”—he took note of comatose Isabelle—“whatever you were doing.”

“Why are you here?” Bitterlich said, drawing on the armor of command.

Malgiers went back to looking like a bit of taxidermy. “I have word from Comtesse Impervia. In fact, I’m talking to her now. She wants to talk to you. I am to think of myself as a speaking tube, only without the annoying hollow echo.”

“Come in,” Bitterlich said, and shut the door behind him. Malgiers was not yet in on the secret of Isabelle’s recovery. Superficially, Malgiers always seemed slightly out of his depth, but he’d risen to every task Bitterlich had given him like a natural aide-de-camp. Perhaps what he really needed was a bit more trust and responsibility.

“Malgiers,” he said. “It’s no doubt plain to you that this expedition has become fraught with politics and intrigue. You’ve done well for me so far, but I’m going to need more from you, including the keeping of secrets.”

Malgiers looked rather pale for a man with a dusky complexion. “Comtesse Impervia has already informed me that if I breathe even one word of our conversations to anyone that she will personally fillet me with a dull knife.”

“The comtesse is quite colorful with her language,” Bitterlich said. “But if she didn’t trust your discretion she would never have used your services no matter how horrible the threat.” This wasn’t strictly true; Impervia used the best tools she had to hand, even if what she had to work with was less than ideal, but that didn’t mean Malgiers couldn’t grow in her esteem. All he had to do was prove trustworthy.

Bitterlich said, “My point being is that I trust that nothing you are about to learn gets repeated to anyone except Impervia. Can you swear to that?”

“Yes, Major,” Malgiers said. “I survived at home by being, well, unobtrusive.”

Bitterlich was by no means sure bringing Malgiers into the center of their little secret society was safe, but then no course of action was.

“Isabelle,” Bitterlich said, “this will be a lot easier if you can talk to Impervia directly.”

Isabelle’s eyes opened and she said, “Or at least at one less remove.” If she distrusted being thus exposed, her expression gave no sign of it.

Malgiers’s expression brightened and he saluted. “Capitaine, thank the saints you’re awake.”

“Either that or the rest of the world has joined me in a fever dream,” she said. “What does Comtesse Impervia have to say to us?”

“Uh, she wants to know what’s taking so long for Bitterlich to say something useful. Or is he just hacking up a hairball?”

Bitterlich discreetly removed a bit of down from his tongue.