“Oh, you make my head ache with your questions,” Jonaton replied. “Some of us think it’s because the sun bobs up and down a little, like north to south, so when it’s bobbed furthest away from somewhere on the world, it’s colder. That’s the Dancing Sun concept. Ask Ponu. Better yet, ask Koto. He’s the star-minded one, and he loves it when he gets to show off what he knows.”

Hakkon shrugged, as if to say, Don’t ask me, I don’t know and I don’t care.

She might have pestered Jonaton anyway, but Isla caught her eye, and when her sister rose, she rose. As she had expected, Isla drew her into that little alcove of a room and shut the door.

“As I expect you guessed, Kordas and I need to find a way to work out a time when we know neither of us can be scryed so that we can scry each other. Are you familiar with that little leather note-case that Beltran has on him?” Isla asked.

“I should,” she said, with a bit more sting to it than she’d intended. “I made it for Kordas and he gave it to Beltran.” That had been . . . well, a little embarrassing. She’d been hard in the throes of her first love of Kordas and she had put a lot of work into that case, embroidering the Crest of Valdemar into the soft glove-leather of the case, then hand-stitching the rest of the case herself. And Kordas had looked at it, said, “Thank you, Delia, this is exactly what I’ve needed for Beltran!” and given it to his Herald and secretary with a smile.

Humiliating. But what could I do without further humiliating myself?

Isla nodded. “Good. Then do you think you can place a note in that case by reverse-Fetching it?”

She groaned a little, because that was going to be another long-distance try, and . . . well, it would be as hard as personally pushing a wardrobe up the steps of a tower to the top by herself.

But then, what was everyone else doing? The equivalent, of course.

“I’ll try,” she said. “But I can’t promise it will work.”

“Good. Sit down,” Isla said, pulling a stool out from a niche in the wall. “Here’s the note.”

She handed Delia a small piece of vellum, not parchment—thicker, so Beltran should notice the difference from the parchment he kept in the case. It was about the size of her palm. Written on it were the words, Valdemar dawn, husband.

It could not possibly be less incriminating. It could refer to anything. It could have been left in the notecase by accident, or picked up by accident. No one knew either Isla or Kordas were mages, and no one knew Delia had Fetching Gift.

“Will he know what time dawn is where he is?” she asked.