“I don’t need a closer look.”
Eli stumbled a little. Josef’s voice was quivering with rage. Quick as he’d taken off, Josef stopped and turned to face them. Eli shrank back at the cold, white anger on his face, nearly falling into Nico.
“It’s no mistake,” Josef said. “That bounty is her last card. I can’t let her do this.”
“Her who?” Eli said.
“Queen Theresa.”
“I see,” Eli said, though he didn’t. “Well, if it’s not a mistake, then I’m stumped. What did you do to this queen to earn a number like that?”
The side of Josef’s mouth twitched. “I lived.”
Eli arched an eyebrow. “Could you try being a little less cryptic?”
“No.” Josef pulled his bag off his shoulder and tossed it to Nico. “I have to go away for a while. There’s food enough for the next day in there. Nico, I’m counting on you to keep Eli from doing anything stupid. I realize it’s a tall order, but do your best.”
Nico scowled at him and tossed the bag back. “I’m going with you.”
“And I’m with her,” Eli said, straightening up. “You can’t just walk out on us now.”
Josef crossed his arms. “And I suppose my opinion in this doesn’t matter?”
“Not in the least,” Eli said. “Where are we going?”
For a moment, Josef almost smiled. “The port at Sanche. We can catch a ferry from there to Osera.”
“Osera?” Eli made a face. “You mean the island with the carnivorous yaks, endless rain, and zero-tolerance policy toward thieves? Why?”
“Because,” Josef said, setting off down the road. “I’ve been called home.”
Nico fell in behind him, her feet kicking up little clouds of yellow dust as she hurried to catch up. Eli stared at their backs a moment longer, and then, cursing under his breath, he shoved his new poster into his bag and ran down the road after them.
Alber Whitefall, Merchant Prince of Zarin and Head of the Council of Thrones, was having a terrible morning. Actually, considering he hadn’t slept since yesterday, morning was a misnomer. What he was having was a terrible night that refused to end.
There were two others sitting in his office on this terrible morning. Sara was there, of course, and Myron Whitefall, his cousin and director of Military Affairs for the Council. As usual, Sara looked equal parts miffed at being called away from her work downstairs and intrigued by their new problem. Myron, however, looked like a man who’d just learned he’s dying from plague.
“Is there a chance she’s overreacting?” Myron said, pulling at his stiff military collar. “The queen is getting older.”
“Theresa is younger than I am, Myron,” Merchant Prince Whitefall said flatly. “She’s hardly to the age of senility.”
“And this is Osera we’re talking about,” Sara added with a sniff. “They’re not people who’d ask for help unless things were desperate. Especially Theresa. Shouldn’t you know that?”
Myron gave the wizard a disapproving look. Sara stared right back, daring him.
“Be that as it may,” Alber said, bringing the conversation back to himself before things could get any worse. “Osera’s borne the brunt of the Empress before, and they’ve never forgotten. If Theresa says the Empress has reactivated her shipyards, then I believe her. The only real question is, how much time do we have left to prepare?”
Sara looked away from Myron with a dismissive huff. “A decent amount, I’d wager,” she said. “Unless she’s spent the last twenty years making upgrades, palace ships are slow and the Unseen Sea is wide and treacherous. Even if she set sail tonight, we wouldn’t see her fleet for two months. Maybe three, if she’s bringing a larger army this time, which I assume she would.”
“Three months is hardly a ‘decent amount,’ ” Myron snapped. “Even if we called in conscripts today, I can’t raise an army on such short notice.”
Alber scratched his short beard thoughtfully. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Why is she moving now? Her initial attack was the disaster that birthed the Council. She was the only thing scary enough to finally convince the kingdoms to stop fighting each other and stand together. And stand together we did, but anyone in the know understands that the only reason we survived was because we had the Relay and the Empress didn’t. That, and the fact that her fleet was too far from home to maintain a supply line. Still, it was hardly what I would call a decisive victory. Were I the Empress, I would have renewed my attack the very next year while the Council was still unstable. Even five years later we couldn’t have turned back any sort of invasion force, but now? We’re stronger than ever. She has to know that. So why did she wait?”