“Balls of the Beast,” Raesinia swore. A boat would be the easiest way to get the unwieldy plates out of the city. Moving the Names in a slow-plodding wagon would be too much of a risk; if Janus got wind of it, his cavalry would easily be able to intercept them. But the Vor was navigable to the north for hundreds of miles, and even fast-riding troopers would have a difficult time catching up. “If they get out of the city, they could get all the way to Murnsk before we catch up with them.”

“I suspect that’s the idea. I think our best chance is going to be once the plates are on the boat. If we can get a large enough party on board, we could take it over.” Sothe hesitated. “The trouble is going to be getting away. It’d be easiest to strike while they’re still tied up, but . . .”

Raesinia saw the problem. A boat tied up in front of the water battery—Vordan’s primary defense against a downriver naval attack—was by definition at point-blank range from some of the largest guns the armories could produce. The needs of the war had stripped away every movable cannon for the armies, but the water batteries included some monstrous siege pieces never meant to be used in the field. Intended to blast holes in Borelgai warships, they would be perfectly capable of reducing a trading boat to kindling.

Blasted to kindling. Raesinia mulled that over for a moment. It felt, oddly, like the beginning of an idea.

“To make matters worse,” Sothe went on, “it looks like they’re planning to sail just as Janus arrives. Presumably they want to be sure his intention is fully engaged.”

“That’s going to keep us busy.” Raesinia sighed. “So we’ve got to figure out what he’s up to on the Green Road, and then come up with some way to get this boat that isn’t actually suicidal.”

“That’s about the shape of it.”

“Raesinia!” Marcus shouted, from the bottom of the balcony stairs. “Are you up there?”

“Something wrong?” Raesinia said.

Marcus pounded up the stairs in his heavy boots, accompanied by another, lighter set of footsteps. This turned out to be Viera, whom he was dragging along by one hand.

“I think,” Marcus said, a bit short of breath, “that I figured it out.”

“I haven’t,” Viera said. “What—”

“Just explain to her what you were just telling me,” Marcus said. “The last bit.”

Viera blinked, looked irritable, and straightened up. “All I said was that if Maurisk was putting flash powder bombs together to bring down buildings along the Green Road, it wouldn’t make much of a trap for anyone not actually in the building at the time.”

“Not that. The next bit.”

“The next—” Viera furrowed her brow. “That we’d probably want to have firefighting teams ready?”

“Yes,” Marcus said.