But if that were the case, the process was as slow and ponderous as the army itself. The soldiers gathered their belongings and formed up, and the supply lines that fed and cared for the soldiers moved too and took legions of troops with them.

At first there was endless activity and then the frenetic motion stopped, and the people of Tyrne looked around in wonder, surprised by the sudden silence where before there had been ceaseless commotion.

And then, in fits and starts, the people of Tyrne started moving. There was no choice for most of them. In one way or another they were dependent on the army or on the Imperial Family. Where those forces went they were sure to follow.

Not everyone, of course. Nowhere near everyone left.

In the palace itself four members of the Krous family continued to occupy rooms. Brolley was packed, but he chose to wait for his sister's return before leaving He did not go with her to the parley, much as he wanted to, but he would be here for her when she returned. Whether or not he was accurate in his assessment, he had come to the conclusion that his sister needed him nearby, if only to make certain someone told her when she was being an idiot. Oh, to be sure Desh Krohan was doing that already, much as he had for Pathra, but he was still treading carefully, because even the First Advisor had to be careful when dealing with a new Empress. Brolley had the advantage of not worrying about a new Empress so much as he was dealing with an older sister. Blood had certain advantages.

Danieca Krous likely did not agree. She was still in a rage with how the ascension had been handled. She was smart enough not to say anything in front of Nachia, but not quite wise enough to remember that Brolley was close to his sister. She had already said half a dozen things in his presence that could have been called treasonous.

Brolley was a Krous. He kept his mouth shut and listened. One thing to offend an occasional foreign dignitary a though to be fair he had learned his lesson along those lines a and another to ignore the ammunition one was given when it came to blood.

Towdra Krous remained in the city, but stayed at his own estate. The man had certain excesses he was fond of that were not the sort of thing even royalty should mention in public without fear of retribution. He knew that Nachia and the wizard wanted the city emptied and he would eventually listen, but first there were appetites to sate.

Hiding bodies had always been easier in Tyrne than it had been in Canhoon.

Laister Krous had no intention of going anywhere. He sat in his personal office within the palace and balanced the numbers on his estates as if there were nothing in the world to worry himself about.

Losla Foster was there to do his worrying for him.

"I'm thinking about marrying that little girl from Roathes, Losla."

"The Queen Lanaie?"

"That's the one."

"She's a queen, true enough, but she is currently a queen with no country."

Laister smiled. "I know this. I also know that she is alone in the world and in need of comfort. And that her title brings with it a certain level of legitimacy."

Losla looked at his employer for a moment and then poured a very small amount of the potent pabba fruit elixir that came from the far east. At one point it had apparently been a wine, but now it was thick and sweet and strong enough that a full glass of the stuff would have knocked a horse into a drunken stupor. He'd grown very fond of the elixir.

"You already have legitimacy. You're in line for the throne should something horrible happen to the Empress."

Laister looked snorted. "Yes, I know that. But I would like to have a proper woman lined up to bear my children."

"Well, she certainly looks ripe enough to bear children." He sipped at the sweet drink and smacked his lips. "Still, you should move quickly. I understand she and Brolley have been making eyes at each other."

"Brolley," Laister snorted. "May the gods spare me from his imbecilic behavior."

"Apparently young Lanaie finds him quite handsome."

"Looks fade." True enough. In his time Laister had been the desire of most the women he knew. "Power and money stay. I have more of both and the girl knows it. If I approach her, she'll very likely say yes."

"What did you wish me to do about it, Laister?"

"I want you to look into who, exactly, controls Louron. I think it might be time to see about changing the map a bit."

Losla set down his glass. "Are you quite certain?"

Laister looked at him without speaking. It was best to remind the man who he worked for from time to time.

Losla cleared his throat. "I only ask because we are already close to a war with the Sa'ba Taalor."

"I don't care in the least about that. What better time to start making the proper adjustments?"

"Well, we could hardly use the regular soldiers in this case."

In the past there had been a few border skirmishes that had worked to Laister's benefit. Chief among them had been the situations with the Guntha. As the people in question no longer existed, that left a need for different catalysts to start his controlled fires.

"Yes, well, I have a few connections in Morwhen."

Losla nodded. "I'll make inquiries. Shall I be particularly discrete?"

"Oh, yes. I should rather not ruffle any feathers just yet."

Neither of them spoke of the assassins. They did not need to. If all went according to their plans the parley would end with the Empress suffering from a wasting illness. And if things went astray, they would have their contingencies to consider.

In any event, Laister remained certain that he would be ascending to the throne within a reasonable amount of time.

One merely had to be patient, and that had always been one of his strong points.

Pella moved along roads she had not crossed since she was a child, and shook her head at how much had changed, but also how little. Far, far to the east of Tyrne the Empire was not the same. Here the royal family held sway in name, but not as an actual presence. Pathra Krous had never once visited the eastern half of his Empire. He had left that task to his emissaries, and while they surely had their purposes, she was not here to deal with them at the moment.

The Imperial Army was a presence, to be sure, but nowhere near as noticeable as it was in the west. The closest thing to a truly vital Imperial city was Elda, and she walked through the streets of the city with impunity, knowing she would not be noticed unless she decided she wanted to be.

Elda was vast, and the people were clear and did not starve. That made it an exception to many other areas in the east. Elda thrived on the backs of neighbors, as had almost always been the case. The military might on the city was enough to cause any force considering an invasion to hesitate. The soldiers from Elda were among the finest fighters that the Empire had, but the cost of keeping them was visited on the farming communities and smaller cities.

It seemed a full legion of smiths worked the forges in Elda, hammering out shields and armor, carefully honing the edges of swords, as surely as the young men brought to the city were shaped into soldiers.

She watched the practice sessions of the trainees, observed the use of crossbows and swords, and the marching formations of the troops. Merros Dulver would have approved of the practice. He would likely have cut the throats of several instructors. They were brutal in the extreme, which he'd have accepted in preparation for war, but only a few days in the area showed that they could be bought and paid for. Several men wore rank who had not earned it through time served but rather with gold coin. Fellein had thrived because that sort of practice was not permitted a excepting certain royals, of course. One could not demand that a prince be trained with the rest of the troops when the family could afford private tutelage.

Of course Pella was a casual observer in these things. She had never used a sword in her life and saw no reason to start. She knew which end was employed in the art of cutting, but that hardly made her an expert. Like her Sisters she was trained to know the nature of people. She observed and she reported. Her report to Desh Krohan would be a mix of good news and bad.

Morwhen was a different situation. The kingdom of Morwhen was run by members of the Krous family. That was surely the truth. That those members had almost nothing but blood in common with the rulers of the Empire was also truth. Theorio Krous had nothing but a name in common with the likes of Danieca and Towdra. He and his kin held to the beliefs of Morwhen, and she doubted that any loyalty the man had would go so far as to send his soldiers into the rest of Fellein. They were fearsome. They had earned a reputation as violent and cruel savages. Somewhere in the past they'd sued for peace with the Empire and won it by marrying into the bloodline.

Theorio did not recognize Pella. She had no desire to be recognized. He had aged very poorly and she doubted that he would last another year on the throne under ideal circumstances. He had two sons and three daughters. Pella had no notion as to who would rule after the old man died. If she had to guess, no one within the family knew either and that made the situation volatile.

To the south of Morwhen things got more interesting. The city states in the area were familiar enough and had changed almost not at all, but there was talk of a resurgence in the old faiths.

Pella listened intently to those claims, not because she thought the situation was of great importance, but because she knew that Desh would want to know. The most interesting aspect she noticed was how many of the older temples a many of which had nearly been abandoned a were now active again. People gathered in the halls dedicated to the gods and prayed. She had seen very little of that to the west.

Several weeks after starting her observations Pella found a properly secluded area and fell into a potent sleep.

As she had done many times before, she dreamed of herself as a storm crow and made that dream come true.

In that way she made her way back to Desh Krohan and her Sisters.

They were not surprised to see her.

"Pella!" Desh Krohan held his arms out at his sides and Pella moved to him, hugging his ribs warmly. Several of the soldiers watching the embrace likely envied the man just then.

"I've missed you, Desh."

"And I you. I like having my Sisters together again." He smiled and she returned the smile, her eyes locked on his.

Without any more theatrics, he headed for his wagon and Pella followed. Not far away Merros Dulver was speaking with the men he'd brought along, enough trained soldiers to terrify most towns along the way. He saw Pella and nodded his acknowledgement, but he did not stop dealing with his charges. There were issues he wished to see handled, chief among them the protection of a headstrong woman who refused to understand her importance in the grander scheme of things.

Nachia Krous stubbornly refused to stay in Tyrne. Desh was actually quite pleased with that part, though he'd have preferred she be in Canhoon and safely hidden away in the palace. Naturally she disagreed. Had he told her the skies were clear when there were no clouds to be seen, she would have found a way to argue the point with him.

It was what she did.

Pella poked his ribs. "You are being harsh."

"It's my duty to be harsh. And I'm not wrong." He paused for a moment. "Also, if I were Merros, I'd be ready to chastise you for reading my thoughts."

"If you were Merros your thoughts would be decidedly more lusty."

He smiled at that. "Fair enough."

They entered the wagon together. Tataya and Goriah were already there and after a quick embrace they got to business.

Anyone entering the wagon would have heard only their pleasant conversation, which was exactly as they preferred it. The reality was hidden from prying ears.

There was a reason that the Sisters could read thoughts. Desh Krohan liked to share secrets only when he wanted them shared.

Pella asked, How goes the clearing of Tyrne?

Desh responded, Not as quickly as we would like. There are troubles with the people not wanting to leave.

Pella frowned and went to the small fire where water was already boiling. Goriah had beat her to it, and tea leaves were already steeping within the waters. The Sooth say disaster is inevitable?

Desh sighed and leaned back into one of the cushions spread around the interior. The Sooth nearly screamed it. There is danger, but they cannot or will not say what that danger is.

Pella scowled at that. The Sooth were not her favorite entities. She preferred to observe for herself. I do not trust the Sooth.

That makes you wise, Pella. They are not trustworthy, but they do not lie in this. I am convinced.

She was not foolish enough to doubt him. If there was anyone more adept at dealing with the Sooth she had never encountered the individual. When?

No one can say, not even the Sooth. Soon, but how soon I do not know.

How long until the Sa'ba Taalor arrive?

They should be here within a day.

Pella poured herself tea and then explained what she had encountered on her journey to the east. There were stories to share, and decisions to be made.

Merros looked out at the Blasted Lands again, watching the agitated clouds seething and drifting in the distance. They reminded him of the ocean on a turbulent day, but the smell was wrong and there were no sounds of crashing waves. The air here was acrid, and if one caught enough of a breeze from the area where no sane person went without good reason, a taste like ash and dust crept into the mouth and lingered.

Nachia Krous came up next to him, and he looked her way and bowed immediately.

"I told you that you don't have to do that."

"I know, but the troops are present and I'll not have them getting the idea that they are free to ignore protocol." He looked at her from the corner of his eye, still mostly facing the ruined land that had changed their lives recently. "I'm wondering if we would have been better staying away from here."

A smile played at her lips, but it was the dry humor of a cynic that made that expression show itself. "Desh would likely point out that you are now in charge of the Imperial Army and that I am now the Empress and say that there are worse fates."

His smile mirrored hers. "Mmm. There is that. But we've both lost people and I wonder how much more we're going to have to go through before this is resolved."

"Pathra used to sit in his throne room and sip at his wine and stare out his window for hours, Merros. He wanted to see the world so very badly that he could was a prisoner in his castle. Do you know why he preferred the Summer Palace?"

"No. I hadn't given it much thought."

"Because the view is better. Look west and you see the Wellish Steppes. Look north and if the day is clear enough you could almost see Trecharch through the hills. South and there are towns and the river that runs all the way to the ocean. East and there are farmlands and beyond those more hills.

"Look out the windows in palace in Canhoon and all you see is Canhoon. He did not like the city. He wanted to see the world."

The Empress put a familiar hand on his shoulder. He was tempted to brush it away. Not because he did not enjoy the familiarity, but because he didn't want anyone starting foolish rumors. Ultimately, however, he did nothing. She was the Empress and if Pathra Krous had made the exact same gesture he'd have felt no reason to act as if anything were amiss. If rumors started they would die just as quickly. That was mostly the way with fancies and little lies.

"Why didn't he move about a bit more then?"

Nachia took her hand from his shoulder and shook her head. Her hair was carefully brushed and styled and he knew she probably hated the effort, but like him knew appearances had to be kept. "He felt he couldn't. Too much to do and not enough time in the day. I think Desh probably encouraged that. Better to keep the Emperor safe and all."

"Yes. Well." He didn't have to say that Desh's efforts had failed. They both knew it.

Nachia said it though. "My cousin was murdered in his home. He stayed there most of his adult life, and he never indulged his desires to go anywhere. And in the end he died just the same."

Merros nodded but said nothing. She had more to say and he could tell it.

"He would have given away the throne just to make this trip. I know that. I will not be in the same situation. I will go where I feel I must." She smiled at him. "Oh, I know you hate that, but you're good not to say it."

"You are the Empress. It's your decision to make." What else could he say?

"Here's the thing of it. I think that Pathra staying locked away made him want more of the journeys into the Blasted Lands. Whenever the expeditions actually made it back, he got a trinket of some kind. Maybe a piece of ancient pottery, possibly a melted piece of gold. Whatever the item, it let him look away from the windows and imagine a bit more of what the world was like outside his palace walls. He used to practically interrogate me whenever I came to visit. He wanted to know about the places I traveled to, and believe me, Merros, I traveled a great deal. I have spent a good portion of my life already on the road to one place or another and usually with a retinue to keep me safe."

Nachia turned and looked at the caravan, at the tents aligned along the road and the soldiers who were stationed around the area, wisely at attention and careful to stay alert.

"None of this is especially unusual to me. Better organized than I've seen often, but not unusual. I saw more of this Empire as a little girl than my cousin saw in his entire life. And I think if he had seen more of it we would have never continued the quests into the Blasted Lands."

"Weren't those Desh's doing?"