“Of course, My Lord. They-They may not prove effective.”

“A fact you share with all your patrons, I’m sure.” Nikandr waited a polite moment for Aleksei to move, and then prompted him. “The grubs, Aleksei?”

He stood with no small amount of reluctance and moved to a set of shelves behind him. From the highest he slid aside a neat stack of books and retrieved a lacquered wooden box. After carefully setting it on his desk, he slid open the top and pulled out a glass vial filled with golden liquid and a fat, colorless grub the size of Nikandr’s thumb. Nikandr stared, fighting to keep his disgust from showing-the thought of eating the thing was threatening to turn the unease in his stomach into all-out revolt.

As Aleksei-a sullen look upon his face-set the second vial carefully on the desk next to the first, Nikandr felt his mother’s presence through his soulstone. A heartbeat later the rook in the corner of the room began flapping its wings and cawing loudly. Aleksei immediately swung himself around and bowed reverently. Nikandr stood and did the same as his mother’s presence grew deep within his chest. He was painfully aware of the vials sitting within arm’s reach, but he knew the worst thing he could do would be to draw attention to them, so he waited and prayed that she hadn’t been privy to the conversation.

The rook shifted on its perch, and then spoke in a voice that was perfectly recognizable-in quality if not in tone-as his mother’s. “Imagine my surprise, Nischka, when you were not in the courtyard at the appointed time.”

“I can see you have business to attend to,” Aleksei said as he scooped up his ledger and rushed out the door.

“You were to wait,” Nikandr’s mother said as the door rattled shut. “Do you care so little about decorum?”

“I have many things to attend to, Mother. My life doesn’t revolve around ceremony.”

The rook cawed and flapped its wings. “Things to attend to… What’s done is done, Nischka. No matter how much sweat you’ve poured into that ship, it would be better if you left it to the Vostromas. There are more important things to worry about.”