Cold Steel

“But wouldn’t they notice when people died as catch-fires? When the mage House in Burdigala burned?” she asked.

“How do you distinguish a fire lit by a mage from one lit by tinder? In war, it is hard to believe in the deaths of catch-fires when dead people are everywhere. The mansa and I were having coffee with Gold Cup’s mansa when Iberian skirmishers arrived in advance of Camjiata’s main army. Drake specifically meant to strike at the mage House. He did not know the mansa and I were there. He threw his fire into Gold Cup’s mansa, who was entirely unprepared to act as a catch-fire, and meanwhile set the whole cursed compound on fire. Children and elders trapped inside as if they were so much refuse!”

He looked away. Bee extended a hand to touch his arm, but she withdrew it and pressed her palm to her chest instead.

He shook himself. “That was when I discovered that to be a catch-fire is not just a passive thing, when the fire mage throws the backlash into you and you must endure it. In desperation, hoping to save the Gold Cup mansa’s life, I found out it is possible to pull the backlash out of another person and into myself. Any cold mage can do it if they are strong enough. It was too late for the mansa of Gold Cup House, but working together the mansa and I were able to quench the fire. I am certain I almost got that cursed fire mage to burn himself up. Lord Marius had time to deploy his army on the best ground. It was a bloody battle, but against Camjiata, they say a draw is as good as a victory. Anyway, all that expensive porcelain shattered in just this arrangement when the old mansa toppled over. I remember it exactly.”

“That’s when the mansa named you heir, isn’t it?” I said softly.

“Yes. That’s when he finally believed me.” He let out a breath. “Beatrice, I recognize the trust you have shown by sharing these sketches with me. I thank you.”

“Most never mean anything to me. Yet the general could always find their meaning.”

I shrugged. “So he claims. He could easily have guessed I would try to escape on a Phoenician vessel just as the tide turned that morning in Expedition. I suspect the sketches remind him of connections he then sews together. He doesn’t need dreams for that.”

“You’re the last person who should be such a skeptic, Cat.” She displayed a sketch of three hats: a half-crushed tricorn hat pinned by a badge in the shape of a lion’s head, a fashionable shako like mine that was ornamented with peacock feathers, and a humble cloth cap with a shard of glass caught in its crumpled folds. “What can anyone possibly make of this?”

“The shako is what Camjiata’s Amazons wear,” said Vai. Under the table he hooked his foot around my ankle. “I thought the style would look well on Catherine. The lion’s-head badge is the token of the Numantian League of Iberia, where Camjiata was born. The other is a farmer’s cap.”

“Yes, but what does it mean? Besides something to do with the war?” Bee refilled his cup and poured one for me. “Cat, dearest, do stand up and let me see those clothes. This isn’t what you were wearing yesterday.”

When I rose she examined my split skirt, jacket, and jaunty hat as Vai’s somber expression lightened at her exclamation of delight.

“What a splendid outfit! I adore the shako, although I could never wear it. Goodness, Andevai, I shall have to ignore all your roostering about in the hope you will take me to a dressmaker and get me an entire new wardrobe, too. We are sister and brother now, are we not?”

He smiled. She smiled. A spark of connection flashed between them.

A server brought a bowl of porridge and a platter of bread as well as another pot of coffee. Rory plopped down, stifling a yawn, and waited for Bee to pour him coffee.

“Where are the others?” I asked as I dug into the porridge.

Bee said, “They have all left already for a meeting with the underground council of radical leaders. I’ll follow after I have said goodbye to you, dearest.”

Vai touched my hand. “We must go, love. I promised Lord Marius I would bring you to pour the wine at his midday dinner today.”

“Did you?” demanded Bee. “Were all those fine speeches false coin, Andevai, just to make sure she would go back with you like a trophy on a rope?”

He met her gaze with a flicker of annoyance. “No. And you know they weren’t, don’t you? Maybe you just don’t like that she is the center of people’s attention for once, instead of you.”

Rory looked up from his porridge. “I promise you, Cat, I will bite their heads off if they do not behave, for it is a sunny day today and I am in too good a mood to have it ruined by their jealous posturing.”