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Necthana.”
    We watched them without speaking, the two heads bent intently over the worktable as Alais explained to Imriel how the powdered galls were mixed with vitriol and gum arabic to make an enduring ink that would not run or smear, even in dampness. At a distance, they might have been brother and sister. She has dreams, I thought, and he has nightmares. I have both, but Blessed Elua willing, that will soon be over. For these two, life is composed wholly of beginnings.
    “We speak of stories ending,” Thelesis de Mornay said softly, “when in truth it is we who end. The stories go on and on.”
    I prayed silently that they would not go on without me.
    Not yet.
    Hyacinthe !

Ninety-Three
    THE FITFUL winds of early spring came and went. All across Terre d’Ange, the fields began greening. Shoots emerged from the rich soil, straining toward the sun. Crocuses blossomed in purple, white and yellow, and trees were hazed with leaf-buds. In the mountains, shepherds prepared for lambing. In the countryside, farmers watched the weather and planted seed. On the coasts, sailors gauged the winds and made ready to voyage.
    And in the City of Elua, they wagered on the date of the Cruarch’s arrival.
    I daresay I had never awaited it with such anxiety myself, fond though I am of Drustan mab Necthana. For that was the letter of Ysandre’s sentence upon me: When the Cruarch entered the gates of the City, I was free to leave it.
    It was Guillen Baphinol who brought us the news, ostensibly in the form of an official visit. But his horse was lathered when he pulled up in the courtyard and his shouting brought Joscelin at a run, his sword at the ready. Cassilines may only draw their swords to kill, but when it came to Imriel’s safety, he didn’t bother with his daggers.
    “Peace,” Guillen said breathlessly, putting up his hands. “Peace, Messire Verreuil. I’ve news! The Cruarch’s flagship has been sighted!”
    Joscelin stared at him, then let out a whoop of joy and embraced the Eisandine lordling.
    Guillen Baphinol grinned, thumping his back. “I thought you’d be pleased, my lord!”
    We threw a fête that evening, and the entire household celebrated. Once the preparations were done, I gave everyone, from Eugenie to the stable-keeper Benoit, the night off. The waiting had weighed hard on all of us, and cast a three-month pall over what should have been a joyous homecoming. We celebrated it that night. I do not doubt that among the Great Houses of Terre d’Ange, they would be appalled to know that at House Montrève, the serving-maid was seated with the chevalier, and the stable-keeper dined at the table with straw still in his hair, but it was my household, and these were the people who had kept it together in duress. I have been a peer of the realm and a barbarian’s slave alike, and I am not too proud to dine with someone with the muck fresh-cleaned from beneath his nails.
    Elua grant I never will be.
    Although he did smell faintly of the stables.
    In the morning, I daresay all of us were a trifle thick-headed. The revelry had gone late into the night and the wine-keg we had tapped was dry. I’d allowed Imriel two glasses, and his eyes had shone with it, color rising beneath his fair skin. He sang a shepherd’s love song in his clear, true voice, while Hugues played his flute. How long, I wondered, until his boy’s voice broke? It would be soon. His growth had slowed in Daršanga, but he was making up for lost time. “He’ll break hearts, that one,” Eugenie predicted.
    I sent a bleary-eyed Hugues on errands that day, bearing word of the Cruarch’s impending return to Emile in Night’s Doorstep and to Eleazar in the Yeshuite quarter. It was a courtesy, since both would doubtless have heard the news already, but I had promised to notify both parties when we made ready to journey. When a knock came at the door, I thought it must be Hugues returning.
    Instead it was a royal courier, with a summons from the Queen.
    “What does she want now?” Joscelin asked, frowning at the missive. “Surely she hasn’t changed her mind.”
    “Did her majesty give any indication?” I asked the courier.
    He shook his head. “Only that your presence is requested, my lady. Yours, your consort’s and the boy.”
    Once again, we travelled to the Palace, this time in our own carriage. All throughout the City, people were celebrating the news. The wineshops and taverns were open, markets were doing a brisk business.