Within the rune-inscribed cup, the infant's still-warm blood swirled with opalescent hues. Dark red became a shimmering silver. Shimmering silver changed to a shadowy translucence in which the wavering visage of Primage Gethen Nour slowly took shape.

Or, rather, the visage Primage Nour now wore. A mortal's face — weak and without magic.

Oh, by Celierian standards, he looked fine and powerful enough. As the newly invested Lord Bolor, he was the picture of a well-dressed, sharp-eyed nobleman: handsome, fit, and clearly secure in his wealth and power. His brown hair had been powdered a deep, lustrous copper and pulled back in a queue at the nape of his neck, and his pale Mage skin had turned bronze, as if tanned by the sunlight he had rarely seen in all his centuries of life. Though his eyes were the same hard green, they bore no hint of the dark Azrahn that would have alerted the Fey in Celieria City to his presence.

Vadim leaned over the chalice, careful to keep his disfigured face concealed in the shadowy folds of his hooded cloak. "Report," he commanded his former apprentice.

Gethen's image shimmered in the cup of blood. The Primage's lips moved and his voice emerged, liquid and distorted, but still intelligible. "Our plans are progressing as scheduled, Great One. All the pamphleteers belong to us now, as do two of the more respectable news journals. One hundred lords and four of the Twenty belong to us, with another fifty lords and two Great Lords who have allied themselves with the ones we control. My umagi in the king's army have assembled their teams and are ready to serve when you give the command."

Vadim nodded. "Excellent. And what progress have you made with the queen?"

A telling silence lasted for several moments before Nour said, "I have made every attempt to ingratiate myself, but she has been difficult to approach. I think her volatile temperament may have something to do with this morning's revelation." Nour's visage shimmered in the Drogan chalice. "Celieria's queen—and every other Lady of a noble House — is with child. Even those who by age or physical infirmity should have been incapable of conception. It seems there was a dinner this summer —“

As the Primage spoke, Vadim recalled Kolis's report of a palace dinner where Ellysetta Baristani had spun a carnal weave so strong that every man and woman in the banquet hall had fallen upon one another in ravening lust. Apparently, that weave had contained much more than mere Spirit.

"The queen carries in her womb an infant heir to the throne of Celieria, an umagi is her closest companion, yet still you have not claimed her?" Irritability made Maur's voice crack like a whip. "Kolis would have had her bound and kneeling in service by now."

Nour's lip curled. "Kolis was the queen's lapdog."

"Then you'd best learn to wag your tail," the High Mage snapped. "I didn't send you to Celieria to bring me excuses. I sent you to bring me results."

The Primage lifted his chin. "And results are what you shall have, Most High," he said, "but as it happens, my delay in Marking the queen may actually have worked in our favor."

"Oh?" Vadim crossed his arms and arched a skeptical brow. "And why is that?"

"Because Manza was right. The Fey have found a way to detect Mage Marks. And the king has allowed them to begin checking his nobles—including the queen."

"The Fey? They are there in the city?"

"The Tairen Soul and his mate arrived this morning," Nour explained. "They were granted a private audience with the king, and shortly after, the king called a select group of lords into council. I regret to say none of my umagi were among them, and all have remained tight-lipped. I cannot tell you the specifics of what was discussed, but the king's army is preparing for deployment within the week."

Vadim didn't need specifics. He could well imagine what had been said at that meeting. His enemies knew their messages were being intercepted—both the mortal couriers and the messages sent on the Fey Warriors' Path. No doubt Rain Tairen Soul and his mate had traveled to Celieria City to pass on the information they had extracted from Vadim's old friend Zon.

No matter. When Vadim's Army of Darkness swept across the land, even the most legendary of Fey warriors would find victory a fleeting dream.

"The Fey checked each member of Dorian's war council for Mage Marks," Nour continued, "and they checked the queen, too... without her knowledge. Needless to say, she was not pleased. So, you see, Great One, it's fortunate that I haven't been able to Mark her yet. Our secret is still safe, and we can use the queen's anger to our advantage."

Vadim waved an impatient hand. Celieria's queen could wait. She wasn't half so important to Vadim as Ellysetta Baristani. "How many Fey are guarding the Tairen Soul's mate now?” Pain spiked in his belly. His next incarnation was upon him, and the mere thought of claiming Ellysetta Baristani and her extraordinary gifts made his soul rage for release from the fragile bonds of its current, rotting form. "Is the Tairen Soul with her? How many chemar have you managed to place near her?" He calculated rapidly. It would take three hours to get an attack force through the Well of Souls, but if he sent one of the dahl’reisen with them to spin that very useful invisibility

weave, they might yet achieve what Zon and his men had failed to accomplish in Orest.

Nour's silence made Vadim's eyes narrow. "Nour?"

For the first time in the conversation, Nour looked nervous. "The Tairen Soul and his mate are already gone. Most High. They left the city shortly after dusk."