It didn’t come to actually wading the river. A number of enterprising bargemen sold their services to those who had cargoes to bring across and couldn’t afford a cart, poling their shallow-bottomed craft just barely above the gravel of the riverbed. Marcus herded his charges onto the first such boat he could find, gave the owner ten times his usual fare, and told him to head for Oldtown and not ask any questions. This was apparently not an unusual request, and the gap-toothed Southsider remained silent for the entire journey and pushed off again once they’d disembarked without a complaint.

From there, Marcus waited with the students and Hayver while Andy went off to secure more suitable clothing. She returned a quarter of an hour later with sacklike brown tunics and britches for the men and a shapeless green dress for Viera. The students, grumbling, changed clothes in the shadow of an anchored riverboat. Marcus got a long linen cloak, which would at least hide his uniform from casual observers.

The walk to Mrs. Felda’s wasn’t long, but Marcus felt every step of it, forcing himself to stop staring at everyone who passed with suspicious eyes. Andy, in the rear, kept a wary eye out for any tails, and when they finally stood in front of the old church she reported that no one had taken a more than usual interest.

Hell. Marcus gritted his teeth. I’m not cut out for this. Give me a nice battlefield and an enemy that wears uniforms.

He knocked at the church doors, expecting Mrs. Felda or her son, and when they squealed open was surprised to find himself facing Cora. By her little squeak of surprise, she was evidently taken off guard as well.

“Colonel!” she said. “We weren’t expecting you for hours.”

“Expecting me?” Marcus shook his head. “How could you be expecting me?”

“I sent a boy to Twin Turrets,” Cora said. “Just a few minutes ago. He can’t have even got there yet.”

“What’s happened?”

“We found something. Me and—” She eyed the figures clustered behind Marcus. “—our mutual friend.”

Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t been back there all day.”

“Then—”

“Let’s get this lot off the street,” he said. “Then maybe we can straighten this out.”

Mrs. Felda took immediate charge of the four students, shuffling them off in the direction of a wash and a hot meal. She cooed over the bruise on Andy’s face as well, but the girl waved off all offers of sympathy. She and Hayver stayed with Marcus, who followed Cora to the fortress of ledgers at the rear of the repurposed building. Raesinia was there, carefully tracing something in one of the books with her forefinger. She looked up as Marcus approached, and gave him a broad grin.

“We’ve got something!” Her smile faded as she took in his expression. “What’s wrong? What did the Preacher want?”