“I don’t expect you to do it without help, General,” Raisa said sweetly. “As Captain Byrne is experienced in working with native-born soldiers, he will assist you in implementing this.” She laced her fingers and rested her chin on her hands. “Also, Speaker Jemson has contacts in Ragmarket and Southbridge, where I expect many of our recruits will come from. Lord Averill is similarly connected in the camps. The clans have been under-represented in the army, and I mean to field a force that reflects all the peoples of the Fells.”

She paused, looking at each man in turn. “The four of you are accountable for this. You will meet at least weekly, and I will expect monthly progress reports.”

Irritation flickered across Klemath’s face, then quickly extinguished. Jemson frowned, looking as if he wished to say something, but did not. Byrne’s expression said that he would see it done if that’s what his queen required.

She’s put him in a spot, Han thought. The bluejackets and the army already hate each other. But she doesn’t have much choice if she really means to make this happen.

“What other business is there?” Raisa asked, stretching her arms out in front of her and rotating her shoulders like they hurt.

“This arrived from Tamron Court via the garrison at Tamron Crossing,” Klemath said sullenly, extending an envelope toward Raisa. “It is addressed to you, from Gerard Montaigne, Prince of Tamron.”

Prince Gerard! Han stiffened. He and Dancer had had a run-in with Gerard in Ardenscourt. Gerard had tried to “recruit” them for his wizard army. If not for Cat Tyburn, he might have succeeded.

Strange that Klemath would give Raisa the message at this meeting, Han thought. Why wouldn’t he just forward it to her with other dispatches from the border?

Unless he already knew what it said and wanted to see how queen and council reacted to the message within.

Raisa stilled herself for a long moment, took a deep breath, then took the envelope from Klemath. It was thick, creamy stationery, sealed with a wax stamp. Ripping the seal free, she slid a folded sheet from the envelope.

She unfolded it and spread it out on the table. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she bent her head to scan the message, so Han couldn’t see her expression. She appeared to read over it twice, running her finger along the page as if to assure herself that she was reading every line.

When she raised her head, her complexion resembled the tawny marble they dug from the quarries in We’enhaven, set with the emeralds of her eyes. Pressing the heels of her hands into the table, she tapped on the page with her fingers, staring straight ahead.

“Well?” Lord Bayar asked impatiently. “What does Montaigne have to say?”

Raisa flinched as if startled, and looked at the High Wizard, her eyes unusually bright.