“Castle Odell . . . oh.”

Sandra saw a rare moment of confusion on the Grand Constable’s impassive, regular-featured face. She was a borderline Changeling, old enough to remember the world before that March day in 1998, but young enough that she usually didn’t unless reminded.

“Point taken, my lady. This . . . well, it’s not what I expected as the rising gymnastics star of Binnsmeade Middle School, let’s put it that way. But unlike the Third Age, the Middle Ages actually did exist, once.”

“Not like this, they didn’t,” Sandra said.

“As they should have been,” Tiphaine quoted sourly.

“Exactly. I have studied history, and believe me I know. And I made sure you did, too.”

“I wonder what a real fourteenth-century European would make of the Association?”

“Fascination and horror, I should imagine. He’d probably think he’d been carried off to Faerie or Avalon by Morgan le Fay.”

“Or gone to heaven, if it was a woman.”

“A good point. Now, Operation Lúthien might work?”

“Yes. With Astrid and her merry band doing it in person.”

“Could you pull it off?”

“Not now. I’m still better than she is with a sword—in my own opinion—but I’ve been playing general for years; I’m a little rusty at the ninjitsu. Of course, there are probably plenty of very able up-and-comers, but while they might be a hair better physically none of them would have had as much practice in planning and execution. Both of us are just about to reach the point where increased experience no longer fully compensates for the reflexes slowing down. And even back in the day I wouldn’t have recommended anything so risky . . . though the upside if it does work is large?”

“Huge,” Sandra said flatly; that was a political question more than a military one.

“And if it fails”—Tiphaine said, and a slightly anticipatory note crept into her normally expressionless voice—“if it fails, all we’ve lost is one deranged fangirl and a few adults who are still obsessed with tree houses.”

“Tsk, tsk, I believe you’re letting your personal dislikes influence your judgment, Tiph. Besides which, the Dúnedain Rangers may be very useful to the dynasty in the long run.”

“I can see that. A self-financing, independent clandestine operations unit that doesn’t have to account to anyone for what it does . . . or for its budget.”

Sandra smiled and turned one hand palm up: “Useful, that could be. Convinced, I am.”

“My lady?”

“Classical reference. Sorry.”

Tiphaine blinked and went on: “But it doesn’t need her running it.”