“This isn’t an Imperial cipher,” remarked Tounot.
“That we know of.”
“If you have a theory, Juste, I wish you’d share with the group,” drawled Miche, and won a flash from Juste’s pale eyes.
“Perhaps I am testing that theory on all of you,” he said, with exaggerated patience.
“Like whetting a blade in a river,” agreed Tounot, and made both of them snort.
It was possible the note was entirely innocent; a message between lovers, for all they knew. But Remin and his men had intercepted enough coded communications to recognize the warning signs in this one. Why would it refer to asecondstorehouse when the barracks barely had its first, and who was hiding inventories in fence posts?
Remin knew there were spies in his city. Even his allies would have agents in Tresingale. But the fact of the coded message, the concealment, the deception, thebetrayalmade him so angry, he only jerked his chin toward Juste when the paper made its way around the circle, refusing to touch it.
“Take what you need, Juste,” he said. “Do what you do.”
“Yes, my lord. I would like to show this to Her Grace, with your permission,” Juste added, tucking the message into his breast pocket.
Remin blinked.
“Do you think she can decipher it?”
“No, my lord, there’s not enough code for that. But it may be useful, nonetheless.”
“Do not upset her.” Really, it was a tossup which would distress her more: evidence that there were traitors in their midst or a puzzle she couldn’t solve.
Unfortunately, there was a third option.
“We also have news from Edemir,” Juste went on, flicking one-handed through his stack of reports. “House Hurrell is in the city.”
“The Emperor…pardonedthem?” Tounot asked skeptically.
“Edemir says they have a manse on Garderie Boulevard, which is in the Wold.” Juste shrugged. “He is inquiring after their sponsor, but ultimately they would not be there without the approval of the Emperor.”
“A strange chance, that they should be pardoned after eighteen years, and right before Ophele is due to visit the city,” said Miche, his eyes hard.
It could mean nothing good. Remin had been moving heaven and earth to keep Ophele from being unduly stressed about what they might face in the capital, but he didn’t see how he could possibly keep this from her.
“I want them watched,” he grated. “Get someone into their household, Juste. Bribe, blackmail, I don’t care.”
“I will convey that to Edemir. But we are lacking eyes in this area,” Juste warned. “I can make no promises about the state of this particular terrain.”
It was their single greatest weakness. Before the Emperor had taken a hammer to Tounot’s betrothal, Remin had hoped for help in this area; the society of the capital’s women had always been closed to them, a place Ophele must go where Remin could not follow. Tounot’s wife would have been a great help and comfort.
Instead, they must rely on Lady Verr. She hadn’t done anything to deserve Remin’s distrust, but something about that woman just put his back up.
“Huber’s scouts report no sign of hostility in our neighboring duchies,” said Tounot, evading the painful subject. “No mustering in Firkane, Leinbruke, or Norgrede, and no alterations to the patrols or fortifications at the estuary of the Emme. I have confirmed it with multiple persons.”
“Well, we have made no overt threats ourselves,” Juste noted, thoughtful. “There has been a great deal of movement around Starfall, but it is possible that the Emperor has not mustered troops becausewehave not.”
“That he can see,” Remin said with satisfaction. “Tounot?”
“We are building rally points and supply locations,” answered Tounot, who had been busy with this project for months. “We have secured two-thirds of the route of our march so far. With supplies in place, I can put an army before the walls of Segoile in twenty-three days. Faster, if we move them to winter quarters downriver.”
“That would be observed.” Remin considered the map. Twenty-three days was a significant improvement. The Emperor would barely have time to summon support, much less march it to the city. But it wasn’t enough.
“We must assume we are being watched, and particularly our shipyard,” Juste agreed. “It was a good notion of Her Grace’s, the fishermen and fishing boats, and that should conceal our intentions somewhat, if anyone is counting our ships. But it will be difficult to build a fleet large enough to move a significant force of men without raising suspicions.”
“Have them begin building additional ports now,” Miche suggested. “Everyone knows His Grace is impatient and unreasonable, and wants to begin the river trade straightaway. Have Master Gibel complain about it around camp.”
