Traitor's Moon

catching up with a few questions on the progress of the war and Klia’s mission, though of the latter there was still cruelly little to report. Neither strong enough nor willing to make the long journey back to Rhíminee, Idrilain was content to remain in what was now essentially Phoria’s camp. As Queen’s Wizard, Magyana remained with her, trapped in this stuffy tent, surrounded by medicine vessels and the heavy smell of illness and an old woman dying—
    Magyana pushed away the guilty thoughts. Yet tied she was, by love, oath, and honor, until Idrilain saw fit to release her, or was released herself.
    Leaving the queen to sleep, Magyana carried her chair and writing materials outside. Late-afternoon light bathed the sprawling encampment in a deceptively gentle light. Dipping her pen in the inkpot, she began again.
    â€œMy dear Thero, yesterday the Plenimarans drove a line of Mycenian troops back to within a few miles of where I sit. In Skala more towns have been burned along the eastern coast. Stories of a darker sort come in from all quarters—half a regiment of White Hawk archers stricken in one night, overwhelmed by evil vapors; dead men rising to strangle their own comrades; a dyrmagnos summoning ghostly terrors and fountains of fire in broad daylight. Some are mere soldiers’ tales, but a few have been verified. Our colleague, Elutheus, himself witnessed a necromancer calling down lightning at Gresher’s Ford.
    â€œEven Phoria cannot discount such reports, but she stubbornly maintains that such attacks are so isolated as to be of little concern. In the short term, she may be right. With the destruction of the Helm, the Overlord’s necromancers cannot command enough power to overwhelm us with mere magic, but the threat of it among our soldiers, fed by rumor and report, does great harm nonetheless.
    â€œThe news is not all bad, however. To Phoria’s credit, she is a decisive leader, if not a diplomatic one, and the generals trust her. Over the past week she has organized significant strikes against enemy forces to the east, and has had several victories. Tell Klia that her friend, Commander Myrhini, captured fifty enemy horses. A great coup indeed, as many cavalry soldiers are afoot for lack of mounts to replace those killed in battle. Others are making do with whatever horses they can commandeer about the countryside, a situation that is not endearing them to the locals.
    â€œThe third of Klia’s dispatches reached us here yesterday. Phoria said little, but her impatience is clear. Surely some small concession can be coaxed from the Iia’sidra? Otherwise, I fear she will recall you. With every new death of an able commander reported, Klia’s presence on the field is more greatly missed.”
    Magyana paused, considering information she dared not entrust to writing, even in such a message as this. Like the fact that she, eldest of the remaining Orëska wizards, dared not openly translocate this parchment to her protégé lest Phoria hear of it. The Princess Royal made no secret of her distrust of wizards in general, and her mother’s adviser in particular. Magyana had already been summoned once to explain her actions, and for nothing more than performing a scry at General Armeneus’s request. In the weeks since Phoria had taken over as War Commander, a subtle shift had occurred. Watchful eyes and ears were at work for her in every quarter, including those of that handsome snake, Captain Traneus.
    Klia has enough to occupy her mind
, thought Magyana, obscuring the letter with a spell only Thero could unravel. She would put it in the hands of the dispatch rider herself later. Let Traneus make of that what he would.

19
A NOTHER E VENING’S E NTERTAINMENT
    T
he dream was less coherent this time, but more vivid. The burning room was still his old chamber in Bôkthersa, yet here were the heads of Thryis and the others glaring at him from the mantelpiece. There was no chance this time to choose what things to save, what to abandon. Fire raced up the hangings of the bed, the draperies, up his legs, but its touch was deadly cold
.
    The smoke boiling up through the floor-boards thickened the band of sunlight spilling into the little chamber, blinding him with its bright glare. His throat was full, his hands useless
.
    Across the room, just visible through the smoke, a lean figure moved closer
.
    â€œNo!” he thought. “Not here.