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“Joran recommends doubling the patrol.”

“Varrus argued for increased patrols at court. If I follow his proposal immediately, he will claim influence over my response.”

“If you do nothing, the mining post may fall.”

“I did not say I would do nothing.”

I press my palm to the neptherium.

Chaos magic enters the metal. A three-dimensional image of the Causadurn Ridge rises between us. The mining post appears as a cluster of dim structures near a narrow trail. Crimson threads mark the known edges of waira territory. Three black points show the recent attacks.

Together, they form a deliberate curve around the post.

Not random hunger.

Pressure.

“Prepare twenty guards,” I say. “No house colors beyond Morwen’thir black. We will present the journey as a diplomatic inspection of the mining agreement.”

Sarveth studies the map. “You intend to go yourself.”

“Reports are being shaped before they reach us. I want the terrain and the witnesses.”

“Varrus will hear of your departure.”

“Let him. If he believes the stronghold less protected in my absence, he may reveal another piece of his strategy.”

The door opens.

Fiona enters carrying a stack of folded cloth and a small leather case. Her green gown is cleaner than it was the last time she came here, but a streak of soil marks one wrist.

Her gaze passes from Sarveth to the map.

“What happened near the mining post?”

“This is a war room,” I say. “Not an extension of your solarium.”

“One of the stable workers says the northern equus are being prepared.”

“The stable worker should concern himself with the equus.”

“He is concerned. His brother works at the post.”

Sarveth gathers the three reports. Fiona notices the movement.

“Waira?” she asks.

“That is not your concern.”

“Then it should not affect Lowtown.”

I let the map disappear. “Leave us, Sarveth.”

Sarveth bows and carries the reports from the room. She closes the door behind her.

Fiona remains near the threshold.

“You cannot question servants about military preparations,” I say.