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storm, and I have never seen its like. It was a calm night, with the sky black as velvet and every star visible save where the cloud blotted them out. With each flash of lightning I could see the underbelly of the cloud, violet and black, shot with glimmers of gold. I stood on the parapet in the stillness of a spring night and watched it. Then I went to fetch the commander.”
    “He describes it truly,” Evrilac Duré affirmed. “All around us was calm, but though the waves rippled and the insects sang at Pointe des Soeurs, we could see the skies split open and the seas in a fury about the Three Sisters.” He folded his hands on the table. “I have seen many strange things, living on the Straits. No man or woman, Alban or D’Angeline, would deny it. Tides that defy the moon, currents that run backward, eddies and whirlpools and unbreaking waves. You yourself have seen the Face of the Waters, is it not so?”
    “Yes.” It is a thing, once seen, never forgotten.
    “So it is told,” Duré murmured. “But I have never seen the like of this, nor heard it spoken. For the better portion of the night it continued, striking ever faster as Armand and I watched from the parapet. Beautiful, it was; and terrifying. In the final moments before dawn there came one last burst, a flash so bright it fair washed the sky in blindness, and a great crack of thunder. And a voice, crying out; a man’s voice, it seemed, but so vast it carried over sea and wave. A single cry.” He fell silent a moment. “Then nothing.”
    “Woke the garrison, it did,” the third man, Guillard, offered. “And me the first out the doors, with the sky greying in the east. I saw the wave come and break ashore, and what it left in its wake. Fish, eels, you name it; thousands, there were, flopping and dying on the stones. A great ring of a wave, like the ripple from a cast pebble.” He shook his head. “All along the shore, as far as the eye could see, writhing and flopping. Never seen the like.”
    “So.” I frowned. “You saw a cloud, and strange lightnings; then a wave, which brought many fish ashore. What of the isles? Did you attempt the Three Sisters?”
    Trevalion’s men exchanged glances, and Evrilac Duré’s folded hands twitched. “We did not,” he said shortly. “Our orders are to watch and report. I sent word to my lord Ghislain, and he bade me bring notice in all haste to her majesty the Queen. This, I have done.”
    He was afraid. I saw it in his eyes, the tight lines around his mouth. I could not blame him. Men of Trevalion had died assailing the Straits; a good many of them under Ghislain’s command, some dozen years gone by. It was no fault of his, but the orders of the old King, Ysandre’s grandfather, Ganelon de la Courcel. Still, they had died, and I could not fault Duré for fearing. I was afraid, too.
    Ysandre cleared her throat. “I’ve already sent couriers to alert Quintilius Rousse, Phèdre. But he is away on excursion to Khebbel-im-Akkad, and not due to return until summer’s end. I thought you would want to know. It is my understanding you have made quite a study of the Master of the Straits.”
    “Yes.” I passed my hands over my face, wishing the Royal Admiral were not gone. Quintilius Rousse had been there, when Hyacinthe made his choice; moreover, he had a long-standing quarrel with the Master of the Straits. It was Rousse who had tested the defenses of the Three Sisters, year upon year. If there was any man fit to try them again, it was he. I had only useless lore on my side-and Joscelin, who was little help at sea, for my own Perfect Companion, alas, was no sailor and was more oft than not found retching over the rails.
    “What do you make of this?” Ysandre’s gaze was kind. She had known Hyacinthe, if briefly, and knew of our long friendship.
    “I don’t know.” I raised my head. “The Master of the Straits said it would be a long apprenticeship. Mayhap it is only that, some phenomenon of power, a demonstration. But it is in my heart that it may be something more. With your permission, I would like to investigate.”
    “You have it.” Ysandre bent her gaze on Evrilac Duré, not without a degree of asperity. “Messire Duré, I will not command any man of Trevalion to assail the Three Sisters ... but I will ask. If Phèdre nó Delaunay wishes to travel thence, will you carry her?”
    Evrilac Duré swallowed visibly, lifting his chin a fraction. They are proud, in Azzalle, and she had