Kiron thought privately that the reason Aket-ten had never seen her father look frightened was probably only because Aket-ten hadn’t actually been looking—or else, because Lord Ya-tiren had never brought himself to the attention of ruthless men before. He seemed to live a quiet life, there in his villa, as remote from the world as it was possible for a landed lord to be. Well, the world had come intruding. It was probably as much of a shock to him as it had been to his daughter.

But he said none of this to Aket-ten. “What kind of visitors?” he asked. “What did they say? And what did Lord Ya-tiren do?” He wondered if the Magi had sent someone else to do their dirty work—or if it had been some high- ranking noble acting on their behalf.

“The Magi came themselves,” she replied, and shuddered. “The same ones that came for me that day you rescued me. That was when Father was frightened; I don’t know what he said, but it was probably what I told him to tell them, that I was ill. The next day, they came again. They wanted to know if I was there, and when Father told them I was still ill, they wanted to know how ill, and when I would be well, and what exactly was wrong with me.” She flushed. “I have the Far-Seeing Gaze, and—ah—I’m afraid I used it when I knew they were in the house the second time. I wanted to know what they wanted.”

He shrugged. “That’s only wise,” he told her. “Lord Ya-tiren probably meant well, trying to protect you from knowing what they said to him, but I don’t think he was doing you any favors. It was much better for you to know just how bad things were. So, go on. What did Lord Ya-tiren say to them?”