“Something to do with the traitors… sir,” the wizard answered.

“I had suspected that, yes.” Doubting George’s voice was dry enough to make Alva flush again. “I doubted you’d have come to me with news of a barge wreck on the Highlow River-although you never can tell.”

“Er, yes,” Major Alva said, visibly off-balance. Like a lot of mages, he conceived of generals as a stiff, stodgy lot. Evidence to the contrary, which Doubting George gave now and again, flustered him.

“And how do you know what you think you know?” George asked.

With a lot of wizards, that would have spawned an endless epistemological discussion. There was one vice, at least, of which Alva was free. He said, “I feel it in my bones, sir.”

George would have thrown most wizards out of his office after an answer like that. With some, he wouldn’t have bothered opening the door first. He paid Alva a high compliment: he took him seriously. “What else can you tell me?” he asked.

“Not much, sir, not yet,” Major Alva said. “But the northerners are stirring, or thinking about stirring. And when they come, they’ll come hard.”

“Best way,” Doubting George agreed, which flustered the young wizard all over again. George went on, “Do you think you could find out more if you did some serious sorcerous poking around?”

“I don’t know for certain, sir,” Alva replied. “I could try to find out, though.”

“Why don’t you do that, then?” George said. “Report back to me if you find anything interesting or important.” Alva was one of those people you needed to remind of such things. Otherwise, he was liable to forget.