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it, she was lucky the orb had stayed where she left it all this time; if the crystal ball had rolled off, she would never have been able to summon it. That was a restriction unique to Lirial, one that Travelers of other Territories did not have to put up with. If someone had broken into her Lirial sanctum and taken her orb, even just to move it across the room, her summons would have gone unanswered and she would have been torn to shreds by Endross storm-drakes.
    Leah shook that image away. She had succeeded, that was what mattered, and now would come the real test.
    She walked the last few paces to Malachi’s sergeant, looking neither left nor right, before she stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized that the Traveler had gotten to his feet, perhaps to defend himself. But the storm was gone, so he had let his Gate dissipate. That was a good sign.
    When she stood only a few feet from the sergeant, she released Lirial and called upon her other Territory. This power was wilder, hungrier, more dangerous, but she would only need it for a quick demonstration.
    Hopefully.
    A hot weight settled on her head as she summoned her crown. A thin circlet of mirror-bright steel that shone an unnatural shade of red, the crown was not particularly impressive on its own. Certainly not compared to her father’s. But it represented something that carried far more weight.
    The blocky sergeant’s eyes went wide, then narrowed in calculation. Leah tensed, preparing for combat, but at last the man went down on his knees. The gesture was awkward, given the man’s age and his armor, but he finally managed it. Then he pressed his forehead to the sand.
    “How may I serve?” he asked. His voice was both loud and clear, even speaking into the ground.
    Immediately all the soldiers around him copied his pose, faces to the sand. They almost certainly would not recognize her, even by reputation, but her demonstration of Lirial and their leader’s behavior would have told them all they needed to know. Only the bald Traveler remained standing.
    Leah fixed her gaze on the Traveler’s acidic green eyes and waited. Either he would give in or she would have to kill him. At this point she had no chance of failure, not with her crown on her head and his Gate closed, but she had no way of knowing which way the soldiers would go. It would make things so much easier if he would just submit.
    So she stared him down, projecting absolute certainty and command.
    He opened his mouth as if to speak, hesitated, and then reluctantly bent forward in a bow. Just to teach him his place, Leah then pretended he didn’t exist. It was more merciful than he deserved.
    “Stand, sergeant,” she said. “What is your name?”
    “Yakir, Your Highness,” he said, struggling to his feet.
    Leah let some of the cold fury she felt leak into her voice. “Sergeant Yakir. On whose orders are you here, interfering with royal business?”
    Yakir’s voice went hoarse, and he did not meet her gaze. “My apologies, Highness, but I am here on the orders of Overlord Malachi.”
    “For what purpose, sergeant?”
    “Well...for the midsummer sacrifice, Highness. We’re here to collect the nine.”
    The sacrifice? Leah thought. Surely not. The timing was right, but how could something so routine have led to this debacle?
    “Do you usually have to burn a town to the ground to collect the sacrifice, Sergeant Yakir?” That was something of an exaggeration, since the fires burning around Myria would likely be extinguished by morning, but he would not dare to correct her.
    Yakir glanced up at the Traveler next to him, who suddenly looked uneasy. “We met a party of village leaders out on the road, Highness. Some among my staff—” Leah felt sure he meant the Endross Traveler—“believed that they were, uh, a little too resistant. We decided that a more forceful hand was needed here.”
    Reading into what was not said, Leah could put together a picture of what had happened.