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the men and women who came to dig for a new life in the ground, for gold; the men and women who would later build Mireea. Heast led Bueralan past it without comment. Through a door on the other side of the room, a narrow corridor turned into a spiraling staircase where, at the end of several levels, a single guard stood. He nodded as Heast emerged and opened the door to reveal another large room.
    Inside sat the Lady of the Spine, Muriel Wagan.
    Despite her reputation for being strict with an iron will, she looked like a softer woman, verging gently into fat, her dyed red hair that hung like a younger woman’s ponytail over a gown of bright yellow and orange reflecting a mind that was anything but sharp and precise.
    â€œYour ladyship, I present to you Captain Bueralan Le,” Heast said, his hands folding before him.
    â€œMy Lady.” Bueralan bowed his head. “A pleasure.”
    Her smile revealed discolored teeth. “My Lord. Captain, how are you feeling?”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œI’ll take that to mean in considerable pain, as always.” Her smile was affectionate, taking no offense at his grunted reply. “Take yourself downstairs. Have that leg looked at.”
    The captain glanced at Bueralan.
    â€œAned,” the Lady of the Spine said, “don’t make me dismiss you.”
    With a faint inclination of his head, the briefest frown of displeasure slipping across his face, the soldier left the room. When the door shut, the affection left Lady Wagan’s face and she turned her gaze on Bueralan. “Dark,” she said, her pale green eyes holding his. “Saboteurs.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œFor your price, I could hire a small army.”
    â€œYou already have small armies,” he replied. “What you don’t have are soldiers who slip into the ranks of your enemy, who poison rivers and dams, who blow up bridges and collapse tunnels.”
    â€œAnd assassinate generals.”
    He shook his head. “Not often. Once—twice, it has happened, but both were opportunities taken advantage of, rather than planned. First time, the army was so small that it did fall apart without the leader. Second time, another man took the spot and the army kept moving. My advice has always been that you are better to cripple the body than to strike the head of an army.”
    â€œAned speaks very highly of you, Captain,” she said.
    â€œI’ll try not to disappoint him.” He nodded to the chair. “Do you mind?”
    â€œNo. I must profess, I don’t know much about you. Where did you meet my captain?”
    Easing into the cushions, Bueralan replied, “On the western coast of the Wilate in a port called Wisal. Merchants had hired a small army to conquer it after it declared its independence from the Southern League. The Wisal Governor put Heast in charge of fighting what was turning into an ugly little war over trade routes. I think they expected him to hire an army, but instead he took on a group of saboteurs. It was the first squad I worked for, and the job took two weeks and two deaths before the war failed to start properly.” He met the lady’s gaze. “He’s a fine soldier. In another part of the world, there are books written about him. Important books.”
    â€œI have read them.” Behind her, a large window displayed the cut back canopy of the forest. The morning’s sun had risen to its high point and threatened to flood the room. “He told me that Dark numbered eight, not six.”
    Stretching his legs out in front of him, he nodded. “Lost two in Ille. The first was Elar—he had been with us for six years. You can’t replace a man like that easily.”
    â€œAnd the other?”
    â€œHe was new. This wasn’t the kind of work for him.”
    â€œDid he make the right choice?”
    The question had never been asked of him and, as the light filtered into the upper half of the