“Kamet!” he had yelled, and had been both relieved and irritated to hear the secretary scrambling out of his bed to answer.

“Master?” He’d stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“A fine watchdog you are. I thought you’d been stabbed or at least drugged,” Nahuseresh had said, sliding his knife back under his pillow and flipping his covers aside. “We have had a visitor.”

He had told Kamet about the woman’s message. “Fetch the lens and a light so that we can signal our boat offshore. Do we have a map of the coastal province of Eddis?”

“Do you believe her?” Kamet had asked.

“I am not sure. I will look at the map before I make up my mind.”

“But you might believe her?”

“It is not much to Eddis’s advantage to have Attolia dead,” Nahuseresh had said, thinking aloud as he was fitting his feet into his slippers. They were deerskin, lined with lamb’s wool and one of the few luxuries he’d brought to the barbarian coast with him. “Her titular heir is not fond of the Mede, but he would not hold the throne long. If Eddis held the queen rather than killing her, and the Attolians were persuaded to answer to her puppeted commands, we could be driven off this shore, and between them, Eddis and the controlled Attolia could deal with Sounis.”

“So what the woman said is plausible?”

“I don’t know yet,” his master had answered caustically. “You haven’t brought me my map.”

Kamet had laughed and gone to fetch it. Together they searched for a marker of the Pricas Spring.

“It will be close to the chasm of the pass,” the Mede had muttered, running his index finger across the carefully inked lines. “If it weren’t very close to the chasm, the watercourse would lead down the coastal hills to the sea, not into the river.”

“There,” said Kamet, pointing. His trained eyes had found the words before his master.

Looking at the map, measuring distances by eye, Nahuseresh had said, “It’s plausible. The springwaters have cut a canyon down to the Seperchia. If Eugenides landed somewhere in here, he could move that distance in a day and on the next perhaps reach his queen.”

“There are no landing sites marked,” Kamet had countered.

“No doubt the Eddisians have landing spots on their rocky shores that they do not advertise to their neighbors.”

“So you will believe the woman?”

Nahuseresh had stared into space for a while, thinking. “I would be a fool, I suppose, not to act as if I did.”

“You will retrieve the queen?”

“We will certainly bring her back,” his master had answered. “Whether she will be alive, I cannot say. Alive, she would be very grateful.”

“If she dies, there will be an internal war for the throne,” Kamet had said.

“And someone will surely wish for the assistance of our emperor,” Nahuseresh had answered with a confident smile.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Kamet had murmured under his breath.

Led by the Medean ambassador to a horse, Attolia permitted him to assist her into the saddle. Sitting above him, she still managed to gaze up from under her lashes. She felt a small glow of pleasure at her skill in imitating her attendant Chloe. “Will you have the prisoners chained and brought to the megaron, the main hall, for me?” the queen asked meekly.

“As you wish, my dear,” Nahuseresh said.

“I want one of them to carry a message for me to Eddis. I’ll pick one after I have my bath.”

“You can’t pick now?” he asked with a smile.

“After my bath,” Attolia said, and Nahuseresh deferred with a bow.

There were olives to ride through and then a road to follow past the tiny village of Ephrata. The road ran along the top of the bluffs overlooking the sea, curving as the bluffs curved and then climbing the spur on which the megaron sat. From the village Attolia had seen the bodies hanging from the megaron’s walls, but she didn’t ask about them until she and Nahuseresh were riding beneath them, through the gate to the main courtyard.

“Alas, traitors,” said Nahuseresh. “I know how you deal with criminals, and I knew you would not disapprove.”

Attolia’s executions had been limited to those actually guilty of a crime. Two of the barons suspended upside down above the gate had been among those whose rare loyalty was unquestioned, but she didn’t choose to argue with Nahuseresh.

“I thank you for your concern on my behalf, Nahuseresh,” the queen said, her voice pleasant.

“Of course,” Nahuseresh replied.

Inside the courtyard Nahuseresh ordered grooms for their horses, a meal to be prepared, and an escort for the queen to her chambers, quite comfortably directing the queen’s soldiers and servants. When they looked to their queen for confirmation of these orders, his face darkened.

“You don’t object, I am sure,” he said.

“Not at all,” said the queen. “I rely on you.”

He went on then with his orders, and the servants slid away without lifting their eyes again.

To one of his own guard he said, “The queen wishes to be undisturbed. You will see that no one enters her chambers,” and excused himself to take care of what he called “other matters.”

The queen walked with her escort to her chambers, leaving the Mede guard outside the door. Inside she found her attendants white faced and silent. Attolia pulled the cloak from her shoulders and held it out. An attendant stepped forward to take it.

“No doubt you will tell me later about the extra attendant that has been added to my retinue,” Attolia said, watching them as they shook their heads in confusion. All of her attendants stood before her. There was none missing, and none who matched the Mede’s description of his midnight visitor.

“Your Majesty,”—one woman spoke for all—“we don’t know whom the ambassador could mean.”

“No matter,” said Attolia. “I do. For now, tell me what has become of the captain of my guard.”

As one, the ladies looked through the doorway behind her. Attolia turned to look over a shoulder and through the open doorway saw Teleus waiting in the inner chamber. Waiting with him were his lieutenants and several officers of the regular army.

The queen smiled. “Well done,” she said. She glanced quickly at each man before her, as if calculating his trustworthiness. “Teleus,” she said after a moment, “the Eddisian prisoners are being brought in, either to the atrium or into the megaron itself. The Thief of Eddis is among them, and if he has a choice, he will be dead by his own hand rather than face dying by inches. I don’t want him to have a choice. Send one of your lieutenants to keep him safe.”

Teleus nodded, and one of the lieutenants turned sideways to slip past the queen. “You are responsible for his continued well-being,” she said as he passed. “Don’t fail me.”

“No, Your Majesty,” he murmured.

The queen turned back to Teleus. “There are messages that need to be sent by the royal messengers.”

“There are none, Your Majesty.”

“None?”

“None of the messengers due have arrived. The two I sent out yesterday to Piloxides have not returned. The man I didn’t send, the last messenger, was found dead this morning. He had a fever last night after eating something that disagreed with him,” Teleus said meaningfully.