“She’s just standing there,” Max said, frowning. “Why is she just standing there?”

“Ferus,” Tavi said to one of his guards. “Go back to the camp. Tell Crassus I want every Knight Aeris we have immediately flying reconnaissance out to fifty miles. I want our Knights Terra to patrol out to ten miles and make sure nothing is tunneling toward us. Cavalry is to ride escort, no group smaller than twenty, back before nightfall.”

Ferus slammed his fist to his chest and turned his mount to begin working his way out of the Canim camp.

Max grunted. “You think it’s supposed to be a distraction?”

Tavi gestured at the crowds. “If it isn’t, it’s doing a crowbegotten good job of it. No reason to take chances. Come on.” Tavi nudged his horse forward until he was standing next to Varg and Nasaug.

“Morning,” Varg said, studying the watersending.

“Good morning,” Tavi replied.

“I ordered my fastest ships put out to sea already,” Varg replied. “Borrowed some of your witchmen to go along and keep an eye on the ocean.”

Many of the watercrafters who professionally used their talents to conceal ships from leviathans had grown used to the Canim during the pair of voyages over the past six months. Canim in general were not disposed to admiration of furycrafting, but their ships’ crews had been more than mildly impressed with the skills of the witchmen. “You think they’re coming in by sea?”

Varg’s ears twitched in an ambivalent motion, a Cane gesture that meant more than a shrug but less than “no.” “I think that the Queen had to come back here after she went to Canea. I think she did not use one of our ships. They have carried out operations in all terrain. No reason to take chances.”

Tavi nodded. “I sent scouts by land and air.”

“Expected you would,” Varg said, showing his teeth in a gesture that might have been meant to be an Aleran smile of approval—or a Canim gesture of threat. Given Varg’s personality, Tavi decided it was probably both. Varg knew Tavi well enough to anticipate his reaction and had wanted him to know it. Such ability was an invaluable asset in an ally. In an enemy, it was terrifying.

Max snorted out a breath, and observed, to Nasaug, “You fellows throw out the most complimentary threats of anyone I ever met.”

“Thank you,” Nasaug said gravely. “It will be an honor to kill one so courteous as you, Tribune Antillar.”

Max barked out a belly laugh and bowed his head slightly to one side, showing his throat to Nasaug. The younger Cane’s mouth lolled open in a small Canim grin.

They waited in silence for several more minutes as the crowd continued to grow.

“Ah,” Tavi said.

Varg glanced at him.

“That’s why the Queen hasn’t spoken,” Tavi explained. “She’s causing her image to appear. And she’s waiting for word to spread about it, so that there’s time for an audience to gather.” He frowned. “Which means…”

“Means she can’t see through it,” Varg rumbled. “She isn’t gaining intelligence this way.”

Tavi nodded. It would explain how the vord Queen was making multiple images appear. Sending the projection forth wasn’t the difficult part of the watersending. Bringing light and sound back from the other side was the difficult part. “She wants to speak to us,” Tavi said. “Everyone, I mean. Crows, she must be causing this image to appear in every body of water large enough to support it.” Tavi shook his head. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

Varg grunted. “Handy, in time of war. Issue orders to the populace. Alert them to enemy movements. Keep your makers from being taken by surprise. Tell them what you need produced, save the time lost to waiting on messengers.” Varg narrowed his eyes. “Vord Queen doesn’t need any of that, though.”

“No,” Tavi said. “She doesn’t.”

“The vord are orderly. Logical. She must have an objective in this.”

“She does,” Tavi said. He felt his mouth harden into a line. “It’s an attack.”

The image stirred, and silence fell over the gathering.

The vord Queen lifted her hand in a gesture of greeting. There was something unnatural in the gesture that made it look like a formal motion, as if she was consciously forcing the movements of her joints to adhere to constraints to which she was not accustomed.

“Alerans,” she said, and her voice rang out loudly, amplified to be heard for hundreds of yards in every direction. The Canim nearest the pool folded their ears back against their skulls and erupted into a chorus of snarls in reaction to the explosion of sound.

“I am the vord. I have taken the heart of your lands. I have laid siege to your strong places. I have slain your First Lord. You cannot destroy me. You cannot withstand me.”

Silence fell for long heartbeats. The vord Queen let the words sink in.

“The vord are eternal. The vord are everywhere. Among the stars, between the worlds, we conquer. We grow. Against us, no victory is possible. You may withstand us for a time, but in ten years, in a hundred years, in a thousand years we will return, stronger and wiser than before. We are inevitable. Your kind is doomed.”

Another silence. Tavi looked around at the crowd. Every face was fixed upon the image of the vord Queen. The Alerans looked pale, or sickened, or simply stared in fascination. Canim body language was more difficult to read, but even the wolf-warriors seemed subdued. This was the face of the creature who had all but wiped out their entire civilization—millions upon millions of Canim, entire nations, the smallest of which was nearly half as large as Alera herself.

But regardless of the individual reaction, every person there watched.

They listened.

“I bear you no personal hatred or animosity. I have no desire to inflict pain or suffering upon any individual. I do what I do to protect my children and allow them to prosper. This world is their legacy. They will have it.”

The image moved, deliberately lifting her slender, pale hands. She drew back her hood, slowly, to reveal the exotically beautiful face of a young woman—one who looked, in fact, very like Kitai. She had the same high cheekbones, the same long, fine white hair, the same sharp cleanliness of features softened by full lips and wide, canted eyes. But where Kitai’s eyes were brilliant green, the vord Queen’s eyes were black, faceted like an insect’s reflecting the light in a mesmerizing, alien glitter of colors.

“But I am willing to offer you this chance, Alerans. There need not be war between our peoples. I will take your cities. But for those with the wisdom to bow before the tide of history, I will provide places of safety in which you will be permitted to govern yourselves, to support your families, and to live out the natural course of your lives in complete autonomy, save for this: You will not be permitted to bear children. This is within my power.

“The war can end. The fighting can end. The death and famine and suffering can end. I will open the Amaranth Vale to be resettled by your people. And while you are there, you will have my protection. No outsider will be permitted to harm you. The full might of the vord will shield you. My power will allow you to live long lives, free of every pestilence and plague known to your kind.

“I beg you to see reason, Alerans. I offer you peace. I offer you health. I offer you safety. Let the strife between us end. Your leaders have not protected you. Your Legions have been laid waste. Millions of lives have been lost to no purpose. Let it end.

“I make you this offer. Any Aleran who wishes to enter my protection must do only this: Come, unarmed, to any part of the world within the sphere of our control. Tie a band of green cloth around your arm. This will be the signal to my children that you have bowed to the natural order. You will be fed, given care, and transported to places of safety, freedom, and peace.”