“You were Passed to Lady Sarene when she was that young?” Matisse asked, curious.

“At her birth, my lady,” Ashe said.

Matisse smiled wistfully.

“You shall have your own seon someday, I should think, Lady Matisse,” Ashe said.

Matisse cocked her head. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, there was a time when almost no Elantrian went without a seon. I’m beginning to think that Lord Spirit may just be able to fix this city—after all, he fixed AonDor. If he does, we shall find you a seon of your own. Perhaps one named Ati. That is your own Aon, is it not?”

“Yes,” Matisse said. “It means hope.”

“A fitting Aon for you, I believe,” Ashe said. “Now, if my duties here are finished, perhaps I should—”

“Matisse!” a voice said.

Matisse winced, glancing at the Roost, filled with its sleeping occupants. A light was bobbing in the night, coming down a side street—the source of the yelling.

“Matisse?” the voice demanded again.

“Hush, Mareshe!” Matisse hissed, crossing the street quietly to where the man stood. “The children are sleeping!”

“Oh,” Mareshe said, pausing. The haughty Elantrian wore standard New Elantris clothing—bright trousers and shirt—but he had modified his with a couple of sashes that he believed made the costume more “artistic.”

“Where’s that father of yours?” Mareshe asked.

“Training the people with swords,” Matisse said quietly.

“What?” Mareshe asked. “It’s the middle of the night!”

Matisse shrugged. “You know Dashe. Once he gets an idea in his head…”

“First Galladon wanders off,” Mareshe grumbled, “and now Dashe is waving swords in the night. If only Lord Spirit would come back…”

“Galladon’s gone?” Matisse asked, perking up.

Mareshe nodded. “He disappears like this sometimes. Karata too. They’ll never tell me where they’ve gone. Always so secretive! ‘You’re in charge, Mareshe,’ they say, then go off to have secret conferences without me. Honestly!” With that, the man wandered away, bearing his lantern with him.

Off somewhere secret, Matisse thought. That library Dashe mentioned? She eyed Ashe, who was still hovering beside her. Perhaps if she coaxed him enough, he’d tell her—

At that moment, the screaming began.

The shouts were so sudden, so unexpected, that Matisse jumped. She spun about, trying to determine the location of the sounds. They seemed to be coming from the front of New Elantris.

“Ashe!” she said.

“I’m already going, Lady Matisse,” the seon said, zipping into the air, a glowing speck in the night.

The yells continued. Distant, echoing. Matisse shivered, backing up unconsciously. She heard other things. The ring of metal against metal.

She turned back toward the Roost. Taid, the adult who supervised the Roost, had walked out of the building in his nightgown. Even in the darkness, Matisse could see a look of concern on his face.

“Wait here,” he said.

“Don’t leave us!” Idotris said, looking around in fright.

“I’ll be back.” Taid rushed away.