Emperor Mage. Tamora Pierce

almost like beading. Kit – her name’s Skysong, but mostly folk call her Kitten – she has scales. Her ma was the same.’

      The prince frowned. ‘A mother? We were told there is only one dragon in the Mortal Realms.’

      ‘There is. Her ma was killed by—’ She almost said ‘Carthaki raiders,’ but stopped herself. As she had been told over and over, no one could prove they were Carthaki. ‘Pirates,’ she went on. ‘She gave birth to Kitten a week before she died, and I’ve been raising Kit ever since.’

      ‘Is it hard? What does she eat? Does she hunt live prey, or—’

      The herald coughed. ‘Your Highness, the ambassadors have yet to greet the delegation.’

      The prince looked like any of Daine’s Rider friends caught in a misstep. He made a noise that sounded like a sigh and eased back in his chair, holding the blue stone rod and gold fan crossed on his chest once more. ‘It is my hope that, should you have idle hours during your stay with us, you will permit me to show you some of Carthak’s wonders.’

      Duke Gareth had told her such an offer would be made by a Carthaki noble, so Daine had an answer ready. She bowed. ‘I’d be honoured, Your Highness,’ she said, while thinking, He sounds so thrilled.

      ‘May I present you of Tortall to your colleagues and fellow ambassadors,’ intoned the herald, more as a command than a request. He led their group to the spot where men, some dressed like the prince, some in robes cut in the same fashion as Numair’s, waited under a canopy. Most of their names escaped Daine, at the rear of the Tortallan delegation. She would have to deal with almost none of these dignitaries, and saw no reason to memorize alien names and titles.

      One, a mage, did make an impression. He was a different fish among so may black-, brown-, and olive-skinned southerners – a tall northerner, tan and weathered from sun and wind, with earnest blue eyes and silver streaks in his flyaway blond hair. He stood with lesser mages and nobles, wearing a scarlet robe with earth-brown cuffs and hem. He wore his robe unfastened, over a northern-style shirt and breeches made of undyed cotton. When the herald gave his name – Lindhall Reed – he and Numair embraced. Daine smiled. Ever since she had met Numair two years ago, she had heard much of his old teaching master.

      ‘Arram,’ Lindhall said, using Numair’s birth name, ‘welcome, if that is the proper word.’

      Numair’s eyes were overbright. ‘I’m surprised you remembered our arrival,’ he replied, voice scratchy. ‘I thought I’d have to root you out of your workroom.’

      ‘No, no.’ Reed’s voice was quiet, cultured, and fast, as if he fought to breathe. ‘I have a good assistant, better than you were. She keeps track of everything. Unfortunately, she’s about to go and live with the merfolk and study their culture. I hear they’re moving in all along the Tortallan coast. I’d thought they’d live in rookeries, like sea lions, but their nature appears to be more tribal. And you are Arram’s student,’ he said without a break, looking at Daine. She jumped at the change of topic. ‘He wrote to me so much about you. He says you know how bats avoid objects and catch prey. When I was a student I incurred censure when I hypothesized that they do it with manipulation of sound, and Arram said you proved that to be true.’

      Daine smiled up at this man, who was nearly as tall as Numair. ‘Well, yes. They squeak at things. Their ears move separately, to gather in what they hear, and each sound has a meaning—’

      ‘I don’t like to interrupt,’ Numair said apologetically, ‘but, Lindhall, I have questions that require answers. Forgive me, both of you.’

      Lindhall looked wistfully at Daine. After friendship with Numair, she recognized someone who would rather talk about learning than anything else. ‘Duty calls,’ the older mage commented. ‘And I know we shall have other chances to confer, since you are here for the emperor’s birds, and I help him to care for them. Very well, Arram, I am yours, for the time being. Unless—’ His face brightened. ‘I know you’ve also had encounters with whales. It is true, their songs are communication, not merely noise? Or communication in the sense of birdcalls, proclaiming territory, and so forth? I—’

      ‘Lindhall,’ Numair said firmly, and dragged his old friend away.

      I didn’t even get to ask him what’s wrong with the emperor’s birds, Daine thought, and sighed.

      ‘Daine,’ called Alanna, ‘can you spare Kitten? Duke Etiakret and Master Chioké would like a closer look at her, if she doesn’t mind.’

      Kitten whistled an enquiry to Daine, who smiled. ‘Go on. They want to admire you.’ Kitten, always open to admiration, galloped off.

      Trying not to look at the slave rowers, Daine went to the prow of the boat, where she could see the riverbank. During the introductions, they had left the port city of Thak’s Gate behind, following canals that led finally into the River Zekoi. As the oars tugged the barge south, the city on Daine’s side of the boat gave up its claims to the riverbank.

      An army replaced it. From here she saw barracks in long rows, taking up hundreds of acres. Companies of soldiers stood side by side on the riverbank, each soldier with a bright, rectangular shield on one arm, a spear in the opposite hand. Looking at them, she swallowed hard. She was no stranger to military camps. Since her arrival in Tortall she had visited home bases for the army and the Queen’s Riders alike, but none of them were as big as this.

      As the imperial vessel passed the first company of soldiers, Daine heard a shouted order. As one man, the soldiers banged their spears three times on their shields, then thrust the spears into the air with a roar. The second company followed suit, then the third, then the fourth. It seemed to go on forever, drowning out all conversation and making Daine’s ears ring. Duke Gareth is right, she thought, feeling ill. Even if we could beat so many, what would be left afterwards?

      The gods are up to something, she remembered abruptly. Something that might put a crimp in the style of this army. If only I could find out what’s going to happen!

      ‘That is just the Army of the North.’ The prince joined her at the rail as they sailed past the last soldiers. ‘My uncle has three other armies of identical size, all in combat readiness.’

      It was hard to read his face, but he sounded as if he wasn’t proud of the imperial forces. ‘What’s over here?’ she asked, turning. They now had a good view of the far bank also. This side of the Zekoi was untamed. Reeds grew head-high; a web of streams emptied into the river. The loglike shapes on the far bank were not dead wood, she realized, but animals.

      ‘Crocodiles.’ The prince had seen what she looked at. ‘Do you have them in the North?’

      ‘No,’ she replied, calling with her magic. They stirred, drunk with the sun. ‘They’re giant lizards, aren’t they? I have a book that tells of them.’ She called again, and felt a soft reply.

      ‘Giant, water-swimming, vicious lizards,’ replied the prince.

      Daine counted to three, then said politely, ‘There’s few animals that’re “vicious” by nature, if you’ll forgive my saying so. Usually there’s a good reason for them acting nasty – like you’re stepping in their nests, or you’re stealing their food.’

      Food, agreed a low voice in her mind. Hungry, commented another. A third voice added, Waiting for food.

      ‘Like all females, you are sentimental about animals,’ the prince replied, his tone superior. ‘If you had a croc after you in the water, you wouldn’t be so quick to stand up for them.’

      ‘They came after you personally?’ She couldn’t see this painted fellow doing anything that might wrinkle his clothes.

      ‘Well, no, but everyone says they do.’

      Someday I must read this scholar Everyone, she thought as she bit her tongue to keep from giving a rude answer. He seems to have written so much – all of it wrong.

      She