similar color, though patchy with batches of grey that made his scalp look like a battleground, with troops in scarlet struggling to hold terrain against a grey-clad foe His eyes were deep under heavy brows, bloodshot, and angry He walked barefoot in the snow, and steam curled up from his footprints
"What in the name of all the furies is going on here?" he demanded, voice booming "Bernard' Flame and thunder, man, what the crows do you think you're doing to my garrison?"
"Oh!" said Pluvus, his pages fluttering nervously "Sir I didn't know you were out of bed yet That is, sir, I didn't know that you'd be up today I was just taking care of this for you"
The man came to a swaying halt and planted his fists on his hips. He glared at Pluvus and then at Bernard. "Harger woke me out of a perfectly good stupor for this," he snapped. "So it had better be good."
"Yes, sir, I'm sure, that is," Pluvus waved a hand at the centurion. "Arrest them. Go on now. You heard the Count."
"I didn't say to arrest anyone," growled Count Gram, testily. He squinted at Bernard and then at Amara, his gaze sharp, penetrating, for all his bawling and staggering. "Did you get yourself another woman, Bernard? Crows it's about time. I've always said there's nothing wrong with you that a good romp or two wouldn't take care of."
Amara felt her cheeks flush with warmth. "No, sir," she said. "It's not that. The Steadholder helped to see me safely here so that I could warn you."
"Highly irregular," Pluvus stuttered to Gram, pages fluttering.
Gram irritably took the pages from Pluvus's hand and said, "Quit waving these under my nose." There was a bright flash of light and heat, and then fine, black ashes drifted away on the cool wind. Pluvus let out a little yelp of distress.
"Now then," Gram said, dusting his hands. "Warn me. Warn me about what?"
"The Marat," Bernard said. "They're on the move, sir. I think they're coming here."
Gram grunted. He jerked his chin at Amara. "And who are you?"
"Cursor Amara, sir." Amara felt herself lift her chin and met Gram's bloodshot gaze squarely, without flinching.
"Cursor," Gram muttered. He glared at Pluvus. "You were going to arrest one of the First Lord's Cursors?"
Pluvus stammered.
"One of my Steadholders?"
Pluvus stuttered.
"Bah," growled Gram. "Ninny. Bring the garrison to full alert, recall all soldiers on leave, and instruct every man to get into his armor and fighting gear, now."
Pluvus stared, but Gram had already swept back around to Bernard. "How bad are you thinking it's going to be?"
"Send word to Riva," Bernard said, quietly.
Gram clenched his jaw. "You want me to call for a full mobilization? Is that what I'm hearing?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what kind of fire is going to fall on my ears if you're wrong?"
Bernard nodded.
Gram growled, "Scouts. Deploy scouts and reconnaissance into the wilderness and make immediate contact with our watchtowers."
"Y-yes, sir," Pluvus said.
Gram stared at him for a second. Then roared, "Now!"
Pluvus jumped and then turned to the nearest soldier and started repeating versions of Gram's orders.
Gram rounded on Bernard. "Now then. I think you'd better explain what kind of idiot you are. Hitting one of my soldiers."
A gliding caress of cold air slid over the back of Amara's neck and made her shiver-a warning from Cirrus. She glanced behind her, out toward the blinding white of pale sunlight on snow and ice. She shaded her eyes, but saw nothing.
Cirrus stirred against her again, another warning.
Amara took a slow breath, focusing on the area behind them.
She almost didn't see through the veil.
There, perhaps no more than ten feet away, was a disturbance in the air, several feet off the ground, a rippling dance of light, like waves rising from a sun-heated stone. Her breath caught in her throat, and she sent Cirrus out toward the disturbance with a whispered command. Her fury encountered a globe of dense air, changed to bend light, much as she herself used it to view things from afar in greater clarity.
Amara took a breath and then forced Cirrus against the globe, sudden and quick.
There was a whoosh of expanding air as she dispersed the globe, and abruptly three men in armor with drawn swords appeared, hovering in the air. Amara cried out, and the men, their expressions startled, hesitated for a faltering second before acting.
One flicked himself through the air toward her, sword gleaming. Amara threw herself to one side, sweeping her hands at the man to