And she had stood upon a mountaintop overlooking the city with him and watched those people die.

Amara hated him for making her see that.

Bernard put his large, warm hand on her shoulder. “Love,” he said quietly. “Shall we?”

Amara gave her husband as much of a smile as she could manage, then straightened her back and followed Gaius into his study.

Like all the rest of the Citadel, the chamber was lavishly, exquisitely appointed without being overdone. There was a broad writing desk made of green-black hardwood from a Rhodesian tree found near the Feverthorn Jungle, surrounded by matching shelves that groaned with books of every description. Amara had seen many such studies in which the books had been nothing more than decoration. She had no doubt that in that room, every book had been both read and considered.

Gaius crossed to a sideboard with brisk strides, opened it, and drew out a bottle of wine and a cup, every motion precise and focused-until Bernard shut the door behind him.

Then the First Lord bowed his head for a moment, shoulders sagging. He took a couple of slow breaths, and Amara could hear them rasp in his lungs. Then he opened a bottle of what smelled like particularly pungent spicewine, fighting down a cough as he did, and drank a glass in several quick gulps.

Amara traded frowns with her husband.

The First Lord, it seemed, was not nearly as strong and fit as he would have the Citizenry believe. Granted, Amara had no doubt that he had permitted them to see his true condition deliberately, and for reasons of his own. Or perhaps he hadn’t. After all, Amara and Bernard had seen Gaius in far worse condition, during their trek through the swamps of Kalare. There would be no harm in letting his mask slip in front of them now.

Gaius half filled his cup again and walked quietly over to his desk, settling carefully down behind it, wincing a bit as several joints creaked and popped. “First, Amara, allow me to apologize to you for the… rather uncompromising nature of the orders given to the Knights sent to bring you here. Given the situation, sensitivity had to be sacrificed to haste.”

“Of course, sire,” she said stiffly. “I have never known you to employ a means which you did not feel justified by its ends.”

He sipped from his cup, eyes studying her, and when he lowered it a faint, bitter smile was on his lips. “No. I suppose not.” He looked from her to Bernard, and said, “Count Calderon, I was impressed with your crafting, your skills, and most importantly, your judgment during our enterprise last year. I have need of your services again-and of yours, Countess, if you are willing.”

Bernard inclined his head, his expression guarded and neutral. “How may I serve the Realm?”

How may I serve the Realm? Not, Amara noted, How may I serve the Crown?

If Gaius took note of the phrasing, no gesture or expression revealed it. He reached into a drawer of his desk and unrolled a heavy parchment-a wide map of the Realm. Upon it, detailed much as the map shown in the Senatorium, was an illustration of the spread of the Vord invasion.

“What I did not tell our Citizens,” Gaius said quietly, “is that the Vord have somehow developed the ability to use furycraft.”

“That’s not new,” Bernard rumbled. “They did so in Calderon.”

Gaius shook his head. “They were able to use the taken bodies of the local holders to respond to furies a living Aleran had caused to manifest. It is a subtle but important distinction. At that time the Vord could only make any use of furycraft if Alerans engaged in its use first.” Gaius sighed. “It seems that this is no longer the case.”

Bernard drew in a short, sharp breath. “The Vord are manifesting furies independently?”

Gaius nodded, swirling his cup in a slow circle. “Multiple reports confirm it. Sir Ehren saw it with his own eyes.”

“Why?” Amara demanded, surprising herself with how harsh and rough her voice sounded. “Why aren’t you telling them?”

Gaius’s eyes narrowed. He was silent for several long seconds before answering. “Because news of such a thing would frighten the Citizens of Alera into a unity of purpose they could otherwise never achieve.”

Bernard cleared his throat. “I know I’m not a politician or a Tribune or a captain, sire. But… I don’t quite see how that’s a bad thing.”

“Two reasons,” Gaius replied. “First is that when the High Lords are well and truly frightened, their initial instincts will be to protect their homes. It would almost certainly cause them to reduce the quality and quantity of troops they would be willing to commit to the campaign-which could prove fatally disastrous for the entire Realm. If the Vord are not stopped in the next few weeks, they could become so widespread and numerous that we might never overcome them.

“Second,” he continued, “because of this, Count. The Vord can’t be sure that we know about their newfound abilities-and if I do not disseminate such an obviously critical fact, it is my hope that they will assume that we remain ignorant as to what they can do.”

Amara nodded, following the line of thought. “They’ll want to save their secret weapon for use at a critical moment, when shock and surprise will decide the course of a battle. They’ll have the crafting at hand, but they won’t dare use it, at least at first, for fear that they’ll be squandering their element of surprise.”

Gaius nodded. “Precisely.”

“But what does that accomplish, sire?” Bernard asked.

“It buys time.”

Bernard nodded. “To do what?”

“Find the answer to an important question.”

“What question?”

“The one I should have been asking from the start,” Amara said quietly. “Why? Why are the Vord now able to utilize furycraft when they could not before?”

Gaius nodded again. “Your Excellencies, your skill in the field and your dedication to the Realm are beyond question. But I cannot make an order of this. Instead, I make this request.” He paused for another sip of spicewine. “I wish you to pass into Vord-occupied Alera, discover the source of their furycraft, and, if possible, determine a way to end it.”

Amara stared incredulously at the First Lord for a heartbeat. Then she shook her head, and said, “Unbelievable.”

Bernard slashed his hand in a horizontal motion, and said, “Absolutely not. I will not take my wife with me into something that dangerous.”

Amara jerked her head around to stare at her husband.

He folded his arms, set his jaw, and met her glare with his own.

Gaius never looked up from the contents of his cup, but a small smile graced his mouth. “Bernard. Amara. The fact of the matter is that I am asking you to take on a mission which will in all probability result in your deaths-if you are fortunate. Just as I have asked several other small teams to attempt the same. But it is my belief that if anyone is to succeed, it will be the two of you.” He looked up at Amara. “Regardless of what may have passed between us before today, the fact of the matter is this: Our Realm stands on the brink of ruin, and most of the people in it do not even realize that this is so. Alera needs you.”

Amara bowed her head for a moment and sighed. “Crows take you, Gaius Sextus. Even when you make a request, you leave me no choices.”

“They do seem to have grown a bit sparse, these past few years,” he agreed quietly.

Bernard frowned quietly, and stepped up to study the map. “Sire,” he said, after a moment, “that’s a lot ground to cover. You could send a full cohort of scouts into that area and not find what we’re looking for.”

“You won’t have to cover all of it,” Gaius said. “As the Legions arrive, we will be massing them at Ceres.”

Bernard grunted. “Ceres is all open land. Bad place to fight a force that outnumbers you so badly.”

“It’s an extremely bad place, in fact. We would have very little chance of holding it if the Vord outnumber us as thoroughly as I fear that they do. It’s a guaranteed victory for the enemy-who won’t be able to resist it. The Vord will concentrate their heaviest numbers there-including their crafters. It is my hope that there will be enough confusion to allow you to infiltrate their territory and slip away again when your mission is completed.”