So he fetched ink, paper and quill and scrawled a handful of incoherent thoughts that he hoped would comfort his impossible sister. Since sealing it might be taken as an insult, he merely folded the paper and held it out.

“Thank you, Councillor Danfey. It was good of you to come here, and put my mind at ease.”

The councillor took the note and tucked it inside his sleek tunic. “Under the circumstances, I thought it was best. You’re not to discuss this business with anyone, Mage Lindin. It’s the Council’s wish that the entire unfortunate imbroglio be kept privy. You understand?”

Only too well. “Of course. If anyone should ask after her, I’ll say she’s travelling the Ninth district for a time. That should satisfy the curious.”

Councillor Danfey nodded, his smile thin. “Indeed it should. As for your sister’s future, you’ll hear from me when a final decision has been made. Until then, you can trust I’ll see she comes to no harm.”

Hesitant, Remmie stared at the man. Morgan Danfey had wealth, power and high position. In Dorana he was untouchable. One word in the right ear and he could see a lowly schoolteacher dismissed without any hope of redress.

And I’m to trust him with my sister’s life? I’m to believe he’ll continue standing for her, an unranked mage, against his fellow councillors? What if she annoys him? What if he grows tired of her being underfoot, or decides she’s simply too much trouble?

And that seemed likely. He could only imagine the state Barl was in, how angry she must be. And when his sister was angry, she rarely schooled her temper. But then, what choice did he have here, save taking the man at his word?

There’s nothing I can do for her. She’s made me a prisoner too.

And sooner or later, he’d have to find a way to forgive her for that.

“Sir,” he said, meeting Councillor Danfey’s steady, inscrutable gaze. “If anything changes, you will tell me?”

“Of course.”

Except there wasn’t any of course. Not in a situation like this.

A sudden thought occurred. “Clothes! She’ll need clothes. If I throw some together for her, sir, will you take them with you?”

“Yes, but be quick, Mage Lindin. I am a busy man.”

And a kind one, in his haughty, arrogant way. Remmie bolted to the bedroom, ransacked Barl’s drawers and cupboard, shoved as much as he could fit into a canvas carryall, added one pair of shoes and one of boots, the book she’d been reading, and hauled everything back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, handing his visitor the bag. “This is very good of you.”