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deployed outside the empire. Only Soothsayers could convince the emperor to interfere to that extent with the natural order of the Imperial army.
    “I’m thinking the lieutenant knows more than he’s letting on,” Black added. “Being part of the Court and a cousin of the emperor and all.”
    Distant cousin by marriage, as Reiter understood it, but the little shit did have the smug air of a kid keeping secrets. He moved a dangling caterpillar out of the way with the barrel of his musket and realized he could hear the river. They must be close. “We have our orders, Sergeant.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “When we capture these mages and return them to the empire, we control the beastmen. We control the beastmen, we spend fewer men taking Aydori. It’s as simple as that.”
    Black’s snort spoke volumes about how they’d both been in the army long enough to know it was never as simple as that. But all he said was, “If you say so, sir.”

    “Is that thunder?”
    Mirian closed her mouth, reply cut off by her mother’s raised hand. With her head cocked to hear beyond the evening sounds of city outside the carriage, thin face bracketed by the emerald feathers trailing from her hairpiece, Mirian thought her mother looked a bit like a startled peahen.
    She caught her father’s eye, realized he was thinking the same thing, and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
    “Lirraka…” He leaned forward and placed a hand gently on his wife’s knee. “…the sky is clear. It’s only the wheels rumbling over the cobbles.”
    “No.” A dismissive shake of her head set the feathers swaying. “I have mage-craft enough to know thunder when I hear it in the distance.”
    “Ah, in the distance.”
    “Yes, Kollin, in the distance.” She blinked, slowly, deliberately, drawing attention to her eyes and their few flecks of green. Given how very few they were, Mirian thought drawing attention to them wasn’t the best of ideas, but her mother clearly disagreed, having gone so far as to dust her eyelids with green powder. “But distant thunder may not remain distant. What will we do if it’s storming when we leave the opera?”
    “There’s umbrellas in the door pockets, Mother, we can…”
    “Oh, yes,
umbrellas
.” Lip curled, she made it sound as though she were expected to stand under a canopy of dirty rags. “We cannot carry umbrellas into the Opera House, Mirian, what would people think?”
    “That we wanted to stay dry?”
    “We would be perfectly capable of staying dry if you’d studied harder. It’s a simple, low level Air—stay dry in the rain—and yet you can’t seem to manage it.”
    “I can blow out a candle from across the room.”
    A disdainful sniff. “First level.”
    “I can light the candle again,” Mirian pointed out, knowing she couldn’t win but was unable to stop herself.
    “And again, first level.” Her mother’s thin fingers pushed a curlback over Mirian’s ear, then pulled it forward again. “You squandered your year at university. First levels in everything but Metals and no second levels at all? Honestly, Mirian, next year I expect you to pick a discipline and apply yourself. The Pack expects their mages to shine.”
    This was not the time to explain why next year wouldn’t be an issue. Not in the carriage on the way to the opera. Not when her parents’ reaction would become fodder for the city’s gossips.
    “Did you see how the Maylins were looking at their younger girl? I wonder what Mirian’s done to disappoint them now.”
    “Oh, didn’t you hear? The university released her.”
    “Poor Lirraka.”
    “Poor Lirraka? Poor Kollin, he might as well close the bank.”
    Definitely not the time.
    “Mirian, stop slouching.”
    She straightened and endured her mother twitching at her bodice—forcing the neckline lower, higher, then lower again. “The Imperial army is in Pyrahn,” she began.
    “And the Pack Leader is in Bercarit,” her father pointed out. “I think