“Mercy is a duty from highest to lowest,” Guinalle muttered to herself with sudden resolve. “Ferat asa ny, elar memren feldar. Ostrin agralfre, talat memren tor.”

The rhythm of the enchantment recalled a lament my minstrel father had played over the dead child of one of my aunts. A sudden ripple ran over the surface of the scrying though no one had touched the bowl. All at once the vision of the stricken mariner vanished.

“I’m sorry.” Allin was intent on the bowl. “There was something running so counter to the magic.”

Guinalle looked distraught for an instant before her customary composure walled off such vulnerability. “It didn’t work. I felt that much.”

I felt belatedly guilty for asking such a thing of her. “You did your best.” At the same time, I was sorely frustrated.

The door to the reception hall opened to admit Temar, Ryshad and Halice intent on a new dispute.

“So we’ve a fighting force, just barely.” Halice cut off Temar’s protest with a brusque sweep of her hand. “How do we outflank Suthyfer without more big ships?”

I held up a hand. “I know where we’ll get one more.” I’d achieved at least one thing today.

Halice looked at with ready interest, Temar with sudden hope and Ryshad with affectionate suspicion.

“Shiv and Usara are in Zyoutessela,” I explained. “They bespoke Allin this morning.”

“I told them about Naldeth. They insisted on helping.” She barely blushed at this embroidery on the truth.

Temar smiled at her with delight. “How many men can they raise? What’s Planir’s advice?”

“Would you bespeak them for us?” Ryshad asked urgently.

Halice nodded. “If you’re recovered from yesterday.”

Allin coloured a little but hopefully the others thought that was bashfulness rather than guilt. She had been ordered to work not magic until at least noon today but it had been her insisting to me that she was sufficiently rested to find out what Shiv and ’Sar were up to. Halice and I stepped back to let the mage-girl reach for the broad silver mirror and candlestick scavenged from Temar’s bed chamber.

“Oh, for a handful of mages to link a few good corps together,” Halice commented in a low voice as Allin worked her spell. “I could hand the Lescari throne to whichever duke made me the highest offer.”

“How do you think Tormalin’s ancient cohorts managed to defeat Caladhria’s armies so comprehensively?” Temar said unexpectedly. “Coordinating your forces by magic’s as good as having half your number again.”

“Which is what we’re going to need if we’re going to come out ahead of this fight,” Ryshad pointed out.

“Which is why the morality of Artifice is drilled into any would-be adept.” Guinalle levelled pointed criticism at Temar.

“Shiv? It’s Allin.” She smiled into the mirror. “How are you getting on?”

The spell showed us Shiv and Usara in a wood-panelled room furnished with simple elegance. The light had that translucent quality that comes from overlooking water.

“Where are you?” asked Ryshad.

“On the ocean side,” Usara answered. “An inn called the Griffon Garden.”

Ryshad whistled with amusement. “Still nothing but the best for Planir’s men.”

The ochre-toned image in the mirror shook for a moment, the bright band around it contracting. “Allin?” Temar laid a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded. “It’s just Shiv and Usara bracing the spell.”

The image clarified and Shiv’s voice lost its tinny quality. “Rysh, what’s the best way of hiring a ship hereabouts?”

“Try the Harbour Master,” Ryshad advised.

Shiv grimaced. “He says everything is either already at sea or about to sail for someone else.”

“Then do the rounds of the dockside taverns and find a captain who’s looking peevish. Make him a better offer than the one he’s got.” Ryshad hesitated for a moment. “You’ll need coin on the table though, not the promise of a share in the final payout.”

Shiv and Usara exchanged a glance that needed no words to speak clearly across the spell.

Ryshad cracked his knuckles. “There’s a moneylender called Renthuan works out of a goldsmith’s on Angle Street, back on the Gulf side of the city. Tell him I sent you for Kitria’s dowry.”

With Ryshad’s only sister long since ashes in her urn, that was a useful password.

“I’ll make good every penny,” Temar assured Ryshad stiffly.

So he’d better, I thought privately. That would be the gold that was token of Messire D’Olbriot’s esteem for Ryshad, notwithstanding the pragmatism that had prompted the Sieur to hand him back his oath.

“You need a captain who won’t get all prissy about filling his holds with fighting men rather than cargo,” advised Halice. “And who can rustle you up those wharf rats.”

“Don’t get arrested for planning piracy yourselves,” Ryshad said hastily.

“We don’t want word of this getting back to the Emperor.” Temar bent closer to the mirror, voice low and conspiratorial.

“Or to any chosen or proven man,” added Ryshad. “Remember Zyoutessela’s a D’Olbriot town.”

“Have you spent much time around docks, Shiv?” I asked.

“No.” He looked indignant. “I don’t know why people keep asking me that.”

Temar looked at Ryshad. “Do you know anyone who might assist them?”

Ryshad shook his head. “Not and be sure D’Olbriot won’t hear of it.”

“I’m not at all sure they can do this,” Halice muttered to me. “Not without getting their throats cut. This needs you or me over there.”

“But we’re needed here.” I considered who else might have both the skills necessary and the willingness to help us out. “Did Charoleia mention where Sorgrad and ’Gren fetched up for the winter?”

Halice shook her head. “Last I heard they were in Solura. Even the Imperial Despatch couldn’t get a letter to them in time to do any good.”

Either Allin’s bespeaking skills were improving or Usara had uncommonly sharp ears. “I could bespeak Sorgrad.” He looked like a drowning man who’d spotted a rope.

“Could you fetch them to you by magic?” I asked.

“Probably.” Shiv looked thoughtful. “If we work together.”

“Who are these people?” Temar asked Ryshad.

“Mercenaries, among other things.” Ryshad spared me a speculative glance. “We’ve not met but Halice and Livak speak highly of them.”

He came to slip an arm around my shoulder. I slid my hand around his waist and hid my face in his chest for a moment. The comfort of his embrace helped soothe the qualms I was feeling about what I’d asked Guinalle to do and also meant Halice couldn’t catch my eye. I’d seen a burning question on her face that I didn’t want to answer just yet.

Halice turned her attention to Shiv. “See if you can find out anything about snake-flagged pirates without getting your throat cut.”

Temar squeezed Allin’s shoulder. “You’re tiring. That’s enough for now.”

Shiv nodded. “I’ll bespeak you once we’ve made contact with Sorgrad.” He gestured and the link over the endless leagues snapped, leaving the mirror an empty circle.

Halice turned on me. “How’s he going to bespeak Sorgrad? I thought wizards can only talk to other mages.”

I shrugged. “It turned out last summer that Sorgrad’s mageborn.”

Halice’s jaw dropped and then anger darkened her face. “You didn’t tell me!”

“Not my business to tell,” I retorted. “Take it up with Sorgrad if you’re looking for a fight.”

Halice shook his head. “When I think of all the times I could have used a wizard—” Like me, she’d always considered mages something to steer well clear of but since we’d been caught up in Kellarin’s affairs, she’d come to appreciate their uses.

“Bring magic into the Lescari wars and all you’d do is unite every other duke against the one you were fighting for,” Ryshad pointed out. “Which might at least help end their cursed wars.” He grinned but Halice was still looking dour.

“Sorgrad would have been no use to you,” I told her bluntly. “He’s had no real training. It was magebirth got him exiled from the Mountains so all it’s ever been to him is a bane.” If we in the lowlands were chary of wizards, that was nothing compared to the abhorrence the Mountain Men under the guidance of their Sheltya felt for them. Once I’d seen that for myself, I’d found it no wonder Sorgrad had spent his life suppressing his unwanted affinities.