One of Attolia’s eyebrows rose in carefully conveyed surprise. Eddis took note of the expression, amused to have found at last, she was certain, the original of the look Eugenides had copied. She smiled.

Attolia hesitated, then smiled herself, very briefly. In her expression Eddis saw some hope for her Thief, and her heart lightened.

“You are fortunate in your vassals,” Attolia said.

“The dividing maneuver of your army was perfectly done,” Eddis countered. “You are as fortunate in your officers.”

“They are contract soldiers,” Attolia said dismissively.

“So much the better that you command their loyalty when they are free to hire their services elsewhere. Where else could my barons go and still be barons?” Eddis asked.

Attolia was silent while she considered this. “I have to thank you. I had not looked at it that way before,” she said.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesties,” said Eddis’s minister of war, correcting himself. “The Medes’ retreat will need to be supervised. We thought it best if Your Majesties rode together as there may be details you wish to discuss.”

Once mounted, the queen of Eddis turned to the queen of Attolia. “You will forgive me if I speak frankly?”

“Of course.”

“What treaties have you made with the Mede?”

“None.”

“None? But I had thought—”

“That the emperor was financing my war? He was, but it was on his own speculation.”

“And your ambassador?”

Attolia uncharacteristically said the first thing that came to mind. “He sharpens his beard into points like a fork,” she said of her ambassador, “and uses cheap hair oil.”

“Well, that certainly is frank on your part,” said Eddis, laughing. “I had thought you were fond of him.”

“So did he,” said Attolia dryly.

By evening the army of the Mede had marched back to Rhea. Rhea was a large port surrounded by sufficient arable land to support a thriving town. Like Ephrata, it was hemmed in by the coastal hills, but unlike Ephrata, it had a wide pass that made it accessible to the hinterlands and justified the construction of the bridge across the Seperchia. Attolia and Eddis sat side by side on a hill overlooking the town and watched the Medes embark.

“I am not comfortable sending back the emperor his soldiers,” Eddis admitted.

“It is a small army by his measure. The loss of it wouldn’t have hurt him, only put him further out of temper with us.”

“You think he will not mount another attack. Perhaps he will think we are too secure?” Eddis said hopefully.

“Nahuseresh has said a woman cannot rule alone,” Attolia said blandly.

Eddis chuckled.

“The greater nations of the Continent don’t want the Mede emperor’s power extending to this coast,” said Attolia. “No doubt he will harass our ships at sea, but we can expect the Continent to give us aid if he sends an army against us.” Eddis took note of the comfortable presence of “us” in the queen’s analysis.

“And that will stop him?”

“In the short term that will prevent him from an overt attack. In the long term I rely on his disease to curtail his empire building.”

“His disease?”

“The emperor of the Medes has Tethys lesions,” Attolia explained.

For a moment the only sound was the creak of saddle leather as one of the horses shifted its weight.

“You are certain of this?” Eddis asked.

“He was diagnosed two and a half years ago. He executed his palace physician and his assistants, but one of the assistants had sold the information to one of my spies in exchange for an annuity for his family.”

“He knew he would be executed?”

“Oh, yes.”

Eddis tried to imagine executing Galen.

“I don’t know if you are aware that the Mede emperor passed over his own son in choosing a nephew as his heir?” Attolia asked.

“Yes, I knew,” said Eddis. “It’s remarkable that the signs of the disease have been concealed so far. Of course the nephew will have to consolidate his power more quickly than he anticipated. He’ll keep his loyal generals near to hand…” Eddis mused aloud. “And your late ambassador is…”

“The heir’s younger brother.”

“Yes. Well, then, they will all be busy for several years, won’t they?”

“I think so,” said Attolia.

“You know—” Eddis hesitated, not sure how far to push the Attolian queen.

“Go on.” Attolia inclined her head.

“I was going to say you look like a polecat when you smile like that.”

“Do I?” Attolia still smiled. “You look a little vulpine yourself.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

The two queens sat for a moment in happy agreement.

Eddis looked around as if recalling a question that had nagged at her for several hours. “Where’s Eugenides?” she asked.

For a moment the Attolian queen was immobile, her smile gone as if it had never been. The horse under her threw up its head as if the bit had twitched against its delicate mouth.

“Locked in a room,” Attolia said flatly. “In Ephrata.”

The smile faded from Eddis’s face.

“I ordered the other prisoners released,” Attolia explained. “I forgot that I had him locked up separately. I doubt my seneschal will have released him without my specific instruction to do so.”

“You forgot?” Eddis asked.

“I forgot,” Attolia said firmly, daring Eddis to contradict her.

“You will marry him?” Eddis asked, hesitant again.

“I said I would,” snapped Attolia, and turned her horse away. Eddis followed. When they joined their officers, Attolia gave brisk orders and then rode on, heading back toward Ephrata without waiting for Eddis.

Attolia’s liaison explained that the main part of her forces would return to the bridge across the Seperchia and to their camp. Attolia and a small guard would ride to Ephrata along the coast. The track was narrow, but the ride much shorter.

“Then we will do the same,” Eddis said, and gave her orders to her own officers. Eugenides’s father and her own private guard stayed by her side for the ride back to Ephrata.

“What do you think?” the minister of war asked his queen.

“I don’t know what to think,” she answered. “I suppose I must go on doing as I have done all along.”

“Hmm?” her minister prompted.

“Trust in Eugenides,” she said, shrugging.

In the courtyard at Ephrata, Attolia dropped from her horse and left it for someone else to lead away. She strode up the steps to the entrance to the atrium at the fore of the megaron. Her seneschal and her guard captain waited for her there.

“Your Majesty, the Mede ambassador—”

“Don’t tell me about the Mede ambassador,” said Attolia. “Is the Thief of Eddis still locked up?”

“Your Majesty gave no orders,” the seneschal began hesitantly, “and I’m afraid that Ambassador Nahuseresh—”