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d’Ange. Not openly. And it is there that the trail begins. I need someone to be my eyes and ears, following it. I need someone capable of playing as deep and well-hidden a game as whoever took him. There is,” Melisande said, “only you.”
    I looked at Joscelin, who slowly loosened his grip on my wrists.
    “Don’t ask,” he said. “I have sworn it. You know I have.”
    “I will do nothing to cross the will of my Queen,” I said to Melisande.
    “Of course.” She inclined her head. “I am asking you to find my son. Has not Ysandre asked as much?”
    “Yes.” I held her gaze. “You know I would be bound to present him to her. It was ever her wish, to bring him into her household. Whatever you plotted ...” I shook my head. “I will have no part in it. If he is found, I will send word, but it is to my Queen I will report.”
    She nodded. “I expected no less. Will you do it?”
    I raked both hands through my hair again, heedless of disarray. “Do you swear to me,” I asked in despairing relentlessness, “in Kushiel’s name, in Blessed Elua’s name, that you are not playing me false in any detail?”
    “Would that I were.” Melisande smiled with bitter irony. “I do so swear.”
    “I will do it,” I said.
    The soft splashing of the fountain mingled with Joscelin’s sigh.

Nine
    “HERE.” MELISANDE’S finger indicated the Sanctuary of Elua on the map. I bit my tongue on an exclamation. She glanced at me. “Yes. That close.”
    For ten years, her son-Imriel de la Courcel, Prince of the Blood, third in line to Ysandre’s throne-had been raised in a Sanctuary of Elua in southern Siovale, not three hours’ ride from my own estate of Montrève.
    “I told you we should have spent more time there,” Joscelin muttered. I shot him a look of pure annoyance.
    “No.” Melisande traced a path northward from Montrève to another sanctuary. “You would go here, I think, if you went to worship, Cassiline. Landras is too far to ride in a day and back. I was careful in my choice.”
    “Under our noses,” I said, awed by the audacious brilliance of it. “Or nearly. Where was he when we searched the Little Court?”
    “Hidden in the rear of Elua’s temple.” There was no satisfaction in Melisande’s voice, merely matter-of-fact disclosure. “Ysandre’s men didn’t search it, only asked the priest.”
    “Who lied for you,” Joscelin said. “ Lied ! And then took the child across D’Angeline borders to be raised in secret in the Sanctuary of Elua?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Why? It doesn’t make sense.”
    “Ask Brother Selbert, if you want his reasons.” Melisande bent to smooth a crease from the map. “He did not believe my request violated any of his vows.” She straightened and looked at Joscelin. Her deep blue eyes were clear and calm. “Messire Verreuil, Imriel is my son, and he has done no wrong. Ysandre de la Courcel has no claim on him and the priesthood of Elua does not answer to the throne of Terre d’Ange. Although you may not like it, there was no wrongdoing in it.”
    “He lied for you!” Joscelin repeated, but Melisande made him no further reply.
    I didn’t question the matter; not yet. I studied the map instead, thinking. Truly, Melisande had chosen well in the sanctuary at Landras. It was far from any city and the sort of political intrigue that made secrets impossible to keep. A quiet, provincial sanctuary, given over in equal parts to the academic study beloved of Siovalese, descendents of Elua’s Companion Shemhazai, and pastoral pursuits.
    “How did it happen?” I asked Melisande.
    She shook her head. “No one knows. The children-there were five who were wards of the sanctuary-had taken the temple’s goat herd to spring pasturage. At dusk, only four returned. Imriel wasn’t with them.”
    “Your son,” I said. “A goat-herd.”
    “A lost prince raised in secret by the priesthood of Elua.” Melisande smiled faintly. “Innocent of his origins, cleansed of the taint of his parents’ sins. Terre d’Ange would have embraced him with open arms.”
    She was right; we would have. I shuddered and put aside thoughts of what more dire plans accompanied it. “The other four heard nothing, saw nothing?”
    “No.” Her expression grew sober. “They were spread out across the hills with those little pipes, you know, that shepherds carry, to keep in earshot. After he questioned the children, Brother Selbert turned out the sanctuary to