Isana cleared her throat gently. “You may receive a more coherent answer if you release her.”

The Queen glanced back at Isana, then at Invidia again. Then she simply let her go, and the Aleran woman crumpled to the floor. Invidia lay panting for a moment, her hand at her throat, and Isana could actually see the crushed dents in her windpipe being pushed back into the proper shape by Invidia’s watercrafting.

“I was,” she croaked, a moment later, “securing our future.”

“What?”

“It was too easy. They deliberately left you an obvious approach.” She swallowed, grimacing. “I went to scout out the tops of the bluffs. It’s a trap.”

The Queen eyed Invidia, then stalked to the edge of the pool. She passed a hand over it, and light and color began to flow up from its tranquil surface.

Isana rose and walked over to join the Queen at the pool. Invidia came over, too, and the women watched the images flowing there.

Several hundred mantis warriors flowed along the top of a bluff, one of the ridges overlooking Garrison. Several hundred yards before they could possibly threaten the fortress was a heavy stand of evergreens. The vord poured into them without hesitation.

Distant brassy screams echoed up from the pool. The pines and the ferns that grew up around them shook violently.

Then they went still.

Another group of mantises rushed the trees, this one twice the size as the one before, raising their scythe-limbs in anticipation—but just before they reached the timber line, the trees exploded with howling pale forms that came bounding out to meet them, clothed in hide with thick mantles of black feathers. At their sides came the enormous, nearly wingless predator birds, the herdbanes. They were taller than a man, thickly muscled, their feet tipped with razor-sharp claws to complement their deadly, hooked beaks. They fell upon the mantis warriors beside their Marat companions, each and every one of them armed with a heavy axe, decorated with carved handles, fringe, and feathers, but made of Aleran steel.

The two forces clashed together in mindless ferocity, but the Marat had the weight of numbers on their side, and the tremendous strength and speed of the herdbanes allowed them to wreak havoc among the mantis warriors, snapping off scythes, limbs, legs, and heads with thoughtless, primal ferocity, crippling them so that the axes, powered by barbarian muscle, could finish them off.

The Queen hissed and threw her hand to one side. The image in the pool blurred, then resumed itself—this time on the opposite side of the valley. There, though, the attacking mantises were being torn apart by thousands of warriors clad in grey hides and fighting beside enormous, shaggy wolves, some of them nearly the size of ponies.

The wolves and their barbarian companions were all wearing some form of armor—what looked like aprons fitted with steel plates. Moving swiftly, these Marat and their companions fought in tightly coordinated groups, all working to cut single mantises out from their companions, where they would be surrounded and brought down. Though Clan Wolf wasn’t inflicting the sheer, savage amount of harm Clan Herdbane had, their efforts were bogging down a much larger number of mantises, and their cooperative tactics seemed to Isana to be doing a very great deal to keep their fighters from being severely injured: Wolf had made their battle into a contest of endurance.

“Withdraw them,” Invidia urged quietly. “Wait until we can build a greater mass of troops atop the bluffs. Then we can remove the Marat and take the fortress.”

The vord Queen looked distant. “It will take until nearly dawn to build up such a concentration.”

“What matter?” Invidia said. “It still leaves us nearly a day to prepare for Octavian’s force.”

“You,” the vord Queen said slowly, “are treacherous.”

Isana looked hard at Invidia, and said, “Yes. Because she is a slave to her own self-interest.”

“Mmmm,” said the Queen thoughtfully. Then she waved a hand and turned from the pool. The image faded, but before it did, Isana saw the mantises within it begin to break off combat with the enemy, withdrawing. “You will proceed to the deployment areas and do all in your power to expedite the buildup of forces. Earthcrafting a number of ramps over the worst terrain should be sufficient.”

Invidia bowed and turned toward the exit.

“And, Invidia,” the vord Queen said in a very soft voice. “Do not make another covert departure until after the fortress has fallen.”

The creature on Invidia’s chest let out a hiss, and its limbs stirred. Invidia made a choking sound and fell to her knees. She kept her teeth clenched over a scream that lasted for several heartbeats, then sagged down to the floor.

She pushed herself up slowly, a moment later. She nodded to the Queen and departed, her expression a mask—one Isana had often seen her use to hide her anger.

The Queen ignored Isana and went back to the alcove, staring up into the green light above her.

Isana turned and walked slowly over to Araris, her heart beating quickly. She stared into his eyes through the murky translucence of the croach that held him and mouthed the word, Soon.

For an instant, one of his lips quivered, baring his teeth in the smallest of wolflike smiles.

Isana nodded and settled back down onto the floor. Waiting. But not for much longer. The time to act would be soon, she told herself.

Soon.

Gaius Octavian rode his horse at the head of the rather unusual column behind him, shivering as Acteon pounded steadily down the causeway, through the cold hours of midnight and beyond. He had never traveled the roads outside the Valley on foot, but when the moon had risen, he had been able to see the lofty peak of Garados, rising above the other mountains like an enormous, surly, dangerous drunk on the fringes of a harvest festival.

He was nearly home.

Beside him, Kitai rode with the same easy grace she brought to every endeavor—and if she looked weary, Tavi could hardly blame her. He was more than tired enough to suit himself, as was every man and Cane there with him. But he had made better time than even he had expected. They would reach the western end of the Valley well before sunrise. And then…

He shivered.

And then he would cast them all into harm’s way beside him. With any luck, he would be able to coordinate with the Valley’s defenders, cooperate in a mutual attack from either direction. Though badly outnumbered, the Alerans might still be able to use furycraft and the terrain to overwhelm their foe—and force the vord Queen to appear and intercede.

And then he would learn whether or not a lifetime of uphill battles would save his Realm and people—or see them both smashed to pieces and devoured. Either way, everything he had ever been and done would be justified or found wanting soon, he told himself.

Soon.