“That would be about it,” Cade said, striding alongside them almost too eagerly, Karigan thought. Unlike Dr. Silk, Cade lacked subtlety. “With the Old City closed off to excavations due to . . . due to the recent incident, the students are learning to catalog the artifacts we already have.”

Their host chuckled. “Industry to keep idle hands from finding trouble. I approve.”

He greeted other guests as he led her along, pointedly ignoring Cade. He introduced her to an elderly man, hard of hearing. “This is Josston’s niece, Miss Goodgrave.”

“Good for the grave, you say?” the old man asked, cupping his ear.

“No, this is Miss Goodgrave,” Dr. Silk said in an elevated voice. “Josston’s niece.”

“Ooh.” The old man chortled. “Josston’s niece. I thought you were sending me off to an early grave, young man.” He patted Dr. Silk on the shoulder and moved on in halting steps, chuckling to himself.

“An early grave?” Dr. Silk laughed softly himself. “Wills Barrow is nearly ninety-five years old.”

As Dr. Silk and Karigan approached a display in a glass case, other guests deferentially made space for them.

“Some of my better archeological finds,” he said.

Karigan gazed into the case with interest at corroded pieces of bronze that must have once been daggers and pieces of swords. They had no guards, and nothing remained of the hilts.

“Black Age weapons,” Dr. Silk said. “Or earlier. It’s a very hard time about which to make conclusions.”

“The Black Ages were before the emperor?” Karigan knew when the Black Ages had been. They’d led into the period of Mornhavon and the Long War, but she thought she ought to ask questions as Miss Goodgrave would.

Dr. Silk smiled. “Very good. Yes, my dear, long before the emperor came and provided salvation for our people from despot rulers.”

Karigan tried not to bristle at the insinuation of King Zachary being a “despot.” He’d been—still was—a just and fair ruler.

Other artifacts included metalwork pendants and sigils with rough depictions of lizards or dragons, some deteriorated almost beyond recognition.

“These,” Dr. Silk said, “are works by the emperor’s very early ancestors.”

Amberhill’s ancestors? That would explain the dragon sigil used by the empire, Karigan thought. “Is this also from the Black Ages?”

“Have you ever heard of the sea kings?”

“Very little,” she replied truthfully.

“They once ruled these lands, and their blood runs through many of our people, perhaps yours, too.”

So, Karigan wondered, did Amberhill fancy himself a conquering sea king? What in the five bloody hells would have put that notion into his head?

“The sea king’s people worshipped the sea dragon, and dragons in general,” Dr. Silk explained. “It shows up as a recurring motif in much of their handiwork. Does your uncle show you any of his findings?”

Not an innocent question, she surmised, and wouldn’t he like to know the truth. She was not about to reveal the professor’s secret treasure trove, so she replied, “Not really. His office is quite a mess.”

Dr. Silk appeared to think about her answer for a moment as if trying to divine a hidden meaning, before moving onto the next series of artifacts, pairs of rusted spurs, their leather straps rotted away. He did not question her further.

There were several more artifacts in the case, of varying antiquity and condition, but the gleam of a bright blade caught the corner of Karigan’s eye, and disregarding the other artifacts, she moved down the case, her heart thudding faster and faster.

Dr. Silk saw her interest and said, “Ah. A more recent piece, maybe only two hundred years old. I found it in a very unusual site.”

He had to have, Karigan thought, for it was her very own saber that she had lost in Castle Argenthyne, in the heart of Blackveil Forest. She would know it anywhere.

THE IMAGE TRAPPER

Karigan knew each scratch and nick of the finely honed blade, the feel of the leather-wrapped hilt against her palm. She was so startled, so overwhelmed to see it here, she backed into the stolid person of Cade, who grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Dr. Silk appeared not to notice her reaction. He was bent over the case, the saber gleaming in the lenses of his specs.

Cade looked at Karigan. What could she tell him? How could she tell him this was her sword? She flexed her hand, yearning to grasp the hilt.

“A very unusual find, indeed,” Dr. Silk murmured. “Not that we haven’t found plenty of swords like this. They were favored by the mounted units of the last despot king.”

“What makes it so unusual?” Karigan asked, her voice quavering. Although she knew where it must have been found, maybe this would be a way of communicating to Cade its importance without having to say it herself.

“We found it completely out of context in a place you would not expect to find one. We’ve dug up a number in the Old City, and a handful have been found scattered across the empire. This one was found in the Imperial Preserve, which was once known as the Blackveil Forest, inside the castle of an ancient civilization. There were a few other artifacts out of place there, but I chose this particular piece for display because I like the old weapons.”

“I’ve read most of your papers on your various discoveries,” Cade said.

“I should hope so, Mr. Harlowe, as it is your field of study, after all.”