"How often do they shell you?" I asked Martens.

  I was surrounded by half an army worth of medics, and a platoon worth of army. All the troops were making the room feel crowded, all the guns were making me feel crowded.

  Most of the kids were recovering, stretched out on camp beds hastily set up along the walls. Why they hadn't brought in beds to their workshop before, was beyond me. That's the first thing you do to prepare for a battle. Ward, sleep, ward some more. Don't waste time walking to the mess or dorm rooms.

  "Often," Martens said, standing by my side, surveying the carnage. The dots of blood remained on the floor, along older, darker dots, their color matching the reddish-brown wood paneling. These people had suffered magic overload a lot. "This is the longest respite we've gotten in months."

  "Why?" I said.

  He turned, giving me a sideways glare. Envoy, right.

  "But they tried to kill me," I said. "A drone with a grenade launcher."

  "Battlefield accident, most likely," Martens said. "With the officer in charge of scans on that Fed blockade fleet taking them down for maintenance."

  Cynical, but probably true. Except that there were dozens of ships in orbit around Newm, each with their own scanner suite.

  "Wouldn't work," I said. "Too many people to bribe."

  Martens laughed, short and shrill. Almost hysterical. He turned it into a cough. Tired. They were all tired.

  "Or bribe the fleet commander," he said.

  "With what?" I said. "An admiral risking court martial and dishonorable discharge? Bribing someone like that would take the resources of an entire..."

  I fell silent. An entire planet. Owned by a single company.

  "You see our dilemma," Martens said. A statement, not a question.

  I did. If the company had bribed the leadership of a whole Federal fleet, they'd be deep in the hole. They needed the money the forests of Newm would bring them to survive. But the forests weren't being used. They were valueless to the Newms.

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  "Why don't you join them?" I said. "The Newms, I mean, join the company. Corporate worlds do exist. Sell your stake with a solid enough contract and you can live well for generations. Even demand direct democracy and shares in the company for every citizen."

  Again the glare. Angry, but not at me.

  "Think it hasn't been tried?" Martens said. "The original charter has a ridiculously strong grandfather clause. Time of possession is king. It doesn't even matter if you emigrate, as long as you were born on Newm. You'd need to revoke the settling rights to get rid of it."

  Which was something done in stories. In reality, thousands of worlds would object to anything that threatened an original settlement charter. If one could be revoked, so could others. The Fed fleet would be overwhelmed trying to put down all the armed opposition to such a move.

  "Sorry," I said. "Didn't think."

  "Apology accepted," Martens said, without paying much attention to my words. Still surveying the knocked-out kids. "What did you do to our mages?"

  The crucial question. I'd almost hoped he'd forgotten it. In one panicked smash, I'd removed the main protection Cant City had.

  "There was a dampening ward," I said. "Likely something hooked to the main ward itself, in case someone panicked during battle."

  "Translation," Martens said.

  "I panicked," I said. "The ward tried to prevent me from conjuring something unauthorized and doing any damage. That drained it. The people upholding it tried to fuel it until they collapsed."

  "That's a weakness," Martens said. "Why hasn't the company tried to do something like that?"

  "They've got mages?" I said. I'd thought all the mages were on the Newms' side. That would mean that it wasn't a full mage war, only a limited one. It could have opened for negotiating with the Feds about lifting the quarantine.

  Or not, if the company had bribed their admirals.

  "Must have," Martens replied. "Use magic to fight magic. That's what I'd do."

  I didn't agree with him. Magic was a strong weapon, but hard to get. Mages don't grow on trees, and they die like other men. If the company had a mage, they wouldn't risk him on secret missions.

  "They'd need to know about this," I said. "And get close enough, likely within the college, definitely inside the city, with someone really strong. Cheaper to throw shells at you. Anyone can manufacture artillery, and it's effective. They're wearing you down, aren't they?"

  "Sir," Dil interrupted. "We have an assessment."

  "Do I want to know it?" Martens said.

  "No, sir," Dil said. His soft voice was gone. More direct, no-nonsense, very professional. Wonder what he did before he joined up? I could learn from him.

  "Tell me anyhow," Martens said, and Dil did.

  They had seventeen mages, and four warders, including the professor. Two of them were still unconscious, the rest groggy and foggy. I'd done some real damage there.

  At least there were no aneurysms. Their mages would recover, given time and rest. As long as the company kept from shelling the city, they would be fine.

  Of course that was too much to ask for.