“You’ll start with the basic exercises.”

“If you say so,” Eugenides said, radiating reluctance.

“I do,” said his father.

Much later, covered in sweat, Eugenides was cursing comfortably. The stiffness of the horseback ride had been replaced by more current aches and pains. “I’d forgotten how much I hated this,” he said.

His father replied, “If you wouldn’t overwork yourself the first day, you might be less sore.”

Eugenides looked up at the sky, where the sun was clearing the top of the palace’s high wall. “It’s late,” he said, surprised. The courtyard around them was empty. Even the armorer had banked his fire and disappeared. “No wonder I want my breakfast.”

The minister of war shook his head. He’d known from the first that his youngest son, for all his complaints, had the concentration and the patience to be a great swordsman. They were the same virtues Eugenides’s grandfather had admired in him. The minister of war still regretted, privately, that his son hadn’t been willing to be a soldier and had to remind himself that Eugenides might still have lost his hand. Neither profession was a safe one.

When the queen met with her council in the map room, Eugenides attended. There were surprised looks from the members of the council, most of whom were unaware that the Thief’s reclusion had been a sham. As it was no longer possible to pretend that he was not at her service, his queen had asked him to hear the advice of her counselors for himself, rather than repeated secondhand. His official duties, however, were nebulous. He was not a minister and did not sit at the table. He settled into a seat against the wall.

By leaning forward slightly and looking between two of the men seated at the table, Eddis could watch him. Halfway through the meeting, he leaned his chair back against the map painted on the wall behind him and closed his eyes.

The maps depicted Sounis and the islands off the coast. Eddis and Attolia were represented, as well as more distant countries. The farther the countries from Eddis, the less accurate the maps. They had been painted more than a hundred years earlier and were more decorative than useful. The more useful maps were painstakingly inked on large sheets of vellum and laid out on various tables around the room.

The queen rubbed her temples and summarized the reports before her. “The cannon will not be delivered to Sounis. He has heard about the magus and knows that it was not Attolia that sabotaged his navy. His soldiers tried to seize the last delivery of grain and supplies just inside the pass. They couldn’t recover the wagons, so they ran them into the river there. I am sorry we couldn’t get those supplies up the mountain, but we have the other shipments, and we will keep the cannon.”

She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and went on. “Sounis is going to empty his treasury to buy ships. Without our cannon, I don’t know how he will arm them except to look for an ally who will provide both ships and firepower. We can hope he won’t find one.

“Attolia has taken every advantange of her naval superiority over Sounis. I am sure you have all heard the rumors that she has retaken Chios and Sera. She’s taken Thicos as well. We could hope that this would keep her happy, but there’s no sign that she’s moving her army away from the base of the pass. The peace emissary we sent was rebuffed. There will be no trade with Attolia or with Sounis, and we can expect a hard winter.

“The late-summer windstorms will be here soon. After that, with the navies in harbors, I think we’ll need to be prepared to defend ourselves on all fronts until the winter snows close the pass.”

“The neutral islands?” someone in the council asked. “Will Attolia seize those as well?”

“It depends on how well her naval battles go and how strong she’s feeling. A neutral territory is an asset to both sides if they are evenly divided; it’s a safe harbor they don’t actually have to defend. If Attolia continues to have the upper hand, she may seize the neutrals. They’ve been warned not to resist, and we’ll hope for the best.”

“And the pirates?” another counselor asked.

“Neither side has the resources right now to patrol the sea lanes. Piracy is continuing to grow at a rate that I am sure surprises no one here.” There were a few chuckles from around the table. They weren’t surprised.

One by one, the ministers presented their reports on the distribution of the grain, the consumption of resources, the disposition of the armed forces, and the other vital statistics of her nation. When the meeting was over, they stood, bowed courteously, and left their queen to consider the information.

Eugenides remained, his chair still tipped back and his eyes still closed. Eddis sat watching him. His eyebrows were drawn together, and there was a sharp crease between them, which meant that his arm probably hurt him. He never mentioned any discomfort and snapped if anyone asked him about it. Otherwise he had grown very polite and very withdrawn. He rarely began conversation on his own, and people hesitated to speak to him when the crease in his brow deepened to a scowl, betraying the pain his arm caused him on bad days.

Eddis wasn’t sure that Eugenides still dedicated offerings to his god. Certainly no one complained to her anymore of missing earrings or other baubles. Eddis had noticed her fibula pin reappearing on Eugenides’s sleeve, but that had disappeared before he left for Attolia the final time. Eddis had heard several people, out of the Thief’s hearing, lamenting the loss of his acerbic comments on the court but found that she missed his grin more. He still smiled from time to time, his smiles sweeter for their infrequency, but he no longer grinned.

She sighed. “Attolia has an excellent advisor,” she said.

Eugenides opened one eye and then closed it again.

“Who?” he asked.

“The Medean ambassador. I’m sure he told her to take Thicos and to attack Cymorene. It’s not of much strategic importance to her, but it will be to the Medes if they control a territory on this side of the Middle Sea. Evidently, Attolia and the Mede are as close as you and I are rumored to be.”

“Ornon said she would have hanged me but for him,” Eugenides said. Ornon was the ambassador Eddis had sent to Attolia on her Thief’s behalf.

“You don’t remember yourself?”

Eugenides shook his head. “That part’s very hazy,” he said.

Eddis didn’t ask what memories were clearer. She could guess.

“I suppose I am indebted to him, then,” she said.

The front two legs of his chair dropped to the floor abruptly, and he opened his eyes to glare at her. She’d offended him.

“Am I supposed to wish that you were dead, Gen?” she asked.

They stared at each other. Finally he raised his chin and said, “No, you are not supposed to wish that I were dead, and no, you are not supposed to feel indebted to that Mede bastard, and no, I don’t need a lecture on self-pity, and I don’t want to hear about all the people in this country who lose their hands or their feet to frostbite every winter.”

He propped his chair back against the wall behind him and crossed his arms, looking sullen.

“Touchy today, Gen?”

He sighed. “Oh, shut up.”

“How many people in a given winter lose a hand or foot to frostbite?” she asked gently.