Am I dreaming? Did I hear that?

It was very dark, but the steel might be seen. He knew that voice: Alex Vinton, Odard’s manservant. But there was nobody here, nobody at all.

God. I keep waiting for provosts with a warrant for arrest. Or to turn around and it’s that bitch d’Ath, smiling. Or one of her pupils. Or I just don’t wake up. Did the man talk? It’s days now . . . of course he’d talk! Everyone talks when you hold their head under water the fiftieth time! Did he know my name, that’s the question.

There was just a hint of light on the rolling ground around him, starlight teasing with almost-sight.

Or maybe . . . maybe they don’t talk. The Ascended Masters . . .

The whisper hung in the star-spangled dark. The moon hung low in the west, this late in the night; a few days past full. Guelf turned, thrashed a second, kicking off his blanket, and staggered up to his feet and away from the sleeping men, past the one sentry.

“Back in a minute,” he mumbled, fumbling with his trews.

“Aye, my lord,” murmured the sentry back.

The latrine was ten paces farther on and a new dark shadow was lying on the far side of the little ditch where the excess dirt had been piled up. The bright moonlight distorted expected shapes and humps.

“Sir Guelf?”

“Vinton?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Guelf controlled his anger. Yelling at the man was not going to help right now and would wake the men behind them. They were all Loiston Manor men, but you never could tell. Chenoweth had had words with all of them before they’d left.

“What news?”

“The Ascended Masters say you are to return to Gervais as fast as possible. A spy has found you and the Lady Mary out and we couldn’t intercept either the spy or the dispatches. They’ve been in the hands of the Regency for several days, now.”

“What’s happened with my damned nephew?”

An odd sound came from across the ditch. “Captured with the Princess by the CUT. I freed him; the fellowship freed her. The little nephilite whore sent the news to her bitch of a mother.”

“Does my nephew know?”

“Good question. You’ve been standing here too long. I’ll meet you on the Woodburn Road after you’ve helped your sister burn the papers. That’s the most important thing; those documents would tell the enemy too much.”

Strange, he thought, letting a stream go into the stinking trench. I’m really going to do that. I can’t really tell why I’m going to do it, though.

The thought floated away. There was a rustle and Vinton was gone. Guelf shrugged before making his way back to the men. He didn’t lie down, but paced quietly near the sentry instead.