Winter nodded carefully. Her eyes went to Cyte, and she cleared her throat. “Do you think you could give me a moment alone with Bobby?”

“Of course, sir.” Cyte got to her feet and saluted. “I’ll be outside.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

“What about you?” Winter said in a low voice. “Are you all right?”

Bobby held up her right hand, and Winter noticed for the first time she was wearing a dark glove on it. She tugged at it with her other hand until her palm was exposed. A streak of sparkling gray ran across the living flesh.

“God,” Winter said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” Bobby said, pulling her glove back into place. “Better than losing the hand.”

“You saved my life.”

Bobby’s face colored. “I just . . . I saw you fighting, and I wanted to help. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“Did Abby see anything?” She’d been in the corner, grappling with a Deslandai soldier. “She’s not hurt, is she?”

“Just a little bruised, sir. And I talked to her, but she didn’t mention anything unusual.”

Winter smiled weakly. “You’ll have to be careful about snapping swords in half if you want to keep your secret.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Her evident sincerity made Winter laugh out loud, however much it hurt. “Thank you, by the way. For saving my life. It seems to have become a habit.”

Bobby grinned. “I do my best, sir.”

*   *   *

By the next morning, Winter felt well enough to walk, albeit with exaggerated caution. She discovered she had been sleeping in the upper room of an abandoned house near the gate, which Janus had appropriated as his headquarters. It was nearly empty now, with the army departed, and Bobby and Cyte arrived to escort her to the new regimental quarters up in the citadel.

Desland was closer to being two cities than one. Like Vordan City, it was divided by a mighty river, but here there was no convenient island to serve as a footing for bridges, so the Velt flowed on placid and unimpeded. Innumerable barges, skiffs, and other watercraft crossed and recrossed the flat expanse many times a day, from the cargo warehouses and docks of the low-lying west bank to the residences of the upper class on the cliffs of the east.

Only the east bank had a wall, and it was of medieval construction, a crumbling stone barrier long ago leapfrogged by the expanding city and useless in any case against modern artillery. It also had a citadel, originally intended as a final holdout for the cities defenders in case of a siege. Equipped with barracks and training fields, it made a convenient base, except that it was naturally located at the highest point inside the walls, looking off a cliff over the river. Winter, legs shaky and head throbbing, tried not to think about how much farther they still had to go.