Gavin made his way over to Karris, Blackguards in tow. They, like she, scanned the crowd for threats. Gavin said, “Milady, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a small expedition?”

What do you do when someone asks you kindly to do what you’ve already wheedled and schemed for? “I would be… delighted,” Karris said.

“Excellent.” Gavin smiled without any hint of irony. He did have a nice smile. The worm.

He raised his hands. “My people!” he said. He had a commander’s voice, an orator’s voice with the trick of somehow speaking so loudly and clearly that everyone could understand him without his seeming to shout. “My people! I leave you today, but only for a time. I go to make a place for you. I go ahead of you. And now I ask you to be fearless and grow strong. There are days ahead that will test us all. There is work that only you can do, though I will help as I can. I’m leaving General Danavis in charge. He has my full trust. He will lead well.”

The words walked a narrow line, and he surely knew it. What he was describing without precisely saying was that he was their promachos—the title a Prism could be given during war. But the promachia could only be instituted by the order of the entire Spectrum. Gavin had been promachos during the war with his brother, and had been relieved of the title in less than six months. To be a promachos was to be emperor in truth.

It was one of the very things the Blackguard had been created to protect against.

At the same time, what else was Gavin going to tell all these people? That he was leaving and they were going to have to fend for themselves? They had nothing. They’d left everything in Garriston.

He kept talking, and Karris kept scanning the crowd. Ironfist had taught them the telltales for spotting an assassin, of course. Someone who was sweating profusely, shifting awkwardly, anyone who was keeping their hands concealed in such a way that they might be hiding something. For Karris, it was more of a feeling. An assassin would feel out of place. Someone who wasn’t listening, because they didn’t care what was said. Someone who only cared about his own mission.

Karris realized two things at the same time. First, that was exactly what she was doing. Second, there were at least fifty Blackguards on deck. Not to mention a couple of hundred fanatical common folk who would tear apart anyone who even dared offend their Prism. If there were a perfect moment to not attempt an assassination, this would be it.

Gavin drafted a set of steps from the deck down to the water and drafted a yellow-hulled scull onto the water, complete with rowing apparatus for two.

The Blackguards on duty were Ahhanen and Djur. Neither man looked pleased, but they saluted Karris, transferring protection to her. Life, light, purpose.

Gavin descended the steps and took his place. He didn’t offer Karris a hand onto the scull, which she appreciated. Now, in this, they weren’t some lord and a lady. She was his protector, thank you very much.

As she took her place on the oars, she said, “No blue this time, huh?” The last time they’d sculled together, she’d accused him of using blue luxin for the hull because blue was practically invisible against the waves and it had unnerved her.

He grunted.

She shouldn’t have said it. He’d doubtless drafted the scull from yellow to be kind to her. She’d complained about what he’d done last time, so this time he was doing it differently. And she’d thrown it in his face. Nice, Karris.

They pushed off and sculled together in silence, heading west. When they were half a league out, Gavin signaled that they should stop.

“I showed them all the skimmer yesterday, but there was a lot going on,” he said. A lot going on. She supposed that was one way to describe the panic fifty thousand helpless people felt when they realize they’re under attack by a sea demon and then watching their Prism lure it away from them single-handedly, using magic the likes of which no one had ever seen. “I didn’t want to give all the drafters a tutorial today in how to make one for themselves. Just because a secret’s going to get out eventually doesn’t mean you need to shout it from the rooftops.” He stopped, seeming to realize that she might not be the person to say that to.

“So where are we going?” Karris asked. She didn’t want to talk about that now either.

“I told my people I’d go prepare a place for them.”

“You tell people things all the time.”

Gavin opened his mouth, hesitated. Licked his lips. Didn’t say whatever he was going to say. “I deserved that. Point is, I’ve got fifty thousand refugees. If we put them in one of the little Tyrean coastal towns, they’ll overwhelm the locals, and still be just a short march down the road for the Color Prince. They’ll be defenseless, and they’ll starve to death even if he doesn’t come after them. Point is, mostly for unfair reasons, no one will want to help a bunch of Tyreans.”

“So you’ve come up with an elaborate solution.”

“Not elaborate. Elegant. Fine, I suppose you could call it elaborate, too.” He began drafting the scoops and straws for the skimmer. “I’m going to put them on Seers Island.”

He was officially mad. Karris said, “That entire island is ringed with reefs. No one can get ships in there.”

“I can.”

“And how do the Seers feel about this?” she demanded.

“Surprised, I’d guess. I haven’t told them yet.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“Who knows?” Gavin said. “They are Seers. Maybe they’ve foretold my coming.” His grin withered in the heat of her disapproval. He handed over one of the reeds and they began skimming.

Last time they’d skimmed together, they had held hands, Karris squeezing out the rhythm so that they would be in time with each other. This time he didn’t even extend his hand toward her. Good, it saved her the trouble of rejecting it.

Regardless, they found their rhythm and began cruising across the surface of the sea. Within half an hour, the mountains of Seers Island came into view. But they were farther away than they appeared, and it took hours before Gavin and Karris approached the island. Even then, Gavin didn’t head straight in. He turned south of the island, keeping between it and Tyrea, whose Karsos Mountains were just visible, purple in the distance.

Finally, Gavin turned them north, toward a huge bay. It was a shallow crescent, big enough for Gavin’s entire fleet to fit into, but too wide in Karris’s half-educated opinion to offer protection from the winter storms that would rip between the island and the mainland in a few months.

There were no known settlements. This island was taboo, forbidden, holy. Lucidonius had given it to the Seers hundreds of years ago. And, of course, it was surrounded by reefs that would destroy any ship with a greater displacement than a canoe or a skimmer, and even those could only make it in at high tide.

As they came in closer, skimming a mere hand’s breadth over the coral, Karris saw an enormous pier jutting from the undeveloped shore. A pier that gleamed like gold—a pier of solid yellow luxin. She was about to comment to Gavin about it—Had he created this? Was this where he’d been going in the last few days?—when she saw something else.

There were a couple of hundred armed men and women standing on the beach in an unruly mob.

“Gavin, those people look angry.”