Feor nodded again. “Every naathem can feel others of our kind, if they are close enough, depending on the strength of the naath on both sides. There are a few small powers in the city, but in the past few days I have felt something . . . larger. An abh-naathem of great strength. Janus wanted you to be warned.”

“One of these Penitent Damned?”

“I have no way of knowing, but Janus thought it likely. That a wild naathem could be so strong is vanishingly unlikely.”

“Wonderful,” Marcus muttered. He had met two of the Penitent Damned, the demon-bearing agents of the Priests of the Black. The first, Jen Alhundt, he had fallen in love with, right up until she’d tried to kill him in the underground Desoltai temple. The second, Adam Ionkovo, had tried to get him to betray Janus, dangling the truth about what had happened to Marcus’ family as bait. After Orlanko’s fall, the Penitent had slipped out of a locked and guarded prison cell without leaving a trace. “Can you tell me where this abh-naathem is?”

“Not unless he comes very close to here.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Be careful,” Feor said. “And keep your eyes open. If you catch a hint of anything amiss, tell me at once.” She hesitated. “I lack the power to confront an abh-naathem directly, but it’s possible I will have information that can help.”

Marcus nodded slowly. That’s not exactly reassuring. “All right. Thanks for the warning. Anything else?”

“No.” Feor hesitated. “May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“Do you have any word of Lieutenant Ihernglass and Corporal Forester?”

It had been Ihernglass and Forester, Marcus remembered, who rescued Feor during the Khandarai campaign. Ihernglass had taken the quick passage back to Vordan with Janus and Marcus himself while Feor and Forester had stayed with the rest of the regiment on the slower transport.

“I know they’re both in the east with Janus. Ihernglass raised a company of women to help defend the city, if you can believe that.” Marcus still wasn’t sure he could, or why Janus had allowed it. “I think Forester was helping him. They all marched out with the Army of the East.”

“They were well?”

“They were the last time I saw them, after the Battle of Midvale. There’s been fighting since then, and we haven’t gotten much word.”

Feor nodded gravely. “Thank you.”

“Of course. If you get any more information, about this abh-naathem or”—Marcus wanted to say “any other weird nonsense,” but thought it might not be politic—“ask Giforte to send word.”

“I shall. I wish you the best of luck, Colonel.”

“Thanks.” Between the queen and this mysterious sorcerer, Marcus was beginning to think he’d need it.

*   *   *