“That happened centuries ago. Before I was born, but not before my mother’s time. We do not speak of her. We want no word of her to exist in the polity at large. Even the Arcanum does not mention her name. And yet, somehow, a woman dead centuries ago, buried, all traces that could be easily found obliterated, has led you here. I asked An’Teela to bring you to the meeting we had planned—which was partially social in nature—because I hoped to plead my case in the most private of the spaces the High Halls could provide: please, stop investigating.”

It was Teela who said, “I am sorry. It is not possible now. I understood your plea, if not the reason for it, your eyes so seldom adopt that color. But the rumors of her death may have been exaggerated or greatly exaggerated.”

The indigo once again overwhelmed normal blue as the Consort paled. “Come,” she said. “It is not far now.”

The Consort led them both to a small round table, better suited to Helen’s version of a garden than the High Halls. There were no chairs; in their place was a circular bench that circumscribed the table itself—which appeared to be made of wood, although it seemed to Kaylin that the wood was rooted in the ground beneath it.

“Please, be seated,” she said, seating herself first as if to prove that the bench was safe.

Kaylin glanced at her familiar, but he seemed focused on the Consort; he had no squawks to give. She sat at the same time as Teela did; they formed the points of a triangle as they took their places.

“I will not offer refreshments unless you desire them,” she said—to Kaylin. Teela’s eyes matched the Consort’s in color, which clearly indicated neither had any desire for food. Kaylin shook her head.

“Did you know?” Teela asked.

The Consort shook her head. “If we had known, a greater portion of the resources offered us would have been spent in pursuit and execution. Were it not An’Teela who presented this news, I am not certain I would have believed it. Or that I believe it now. But there must be a reason you believe this.

“And if she is, as you suspect, alive, that changes the complexion of our immediate future. I am grateful for your intervention with the High Halls; the threat she posed in ancient times she posed after the loss of its oversight. I believe the change in the High Halls will make the Lake far safer. But safer is not safe.” She exhaled.

Spoke a name.

To the center of the table came what looked like a miniature mirror—a small pond that seemed, from this height, to have no bottom, no end. In it, Kaylin could see the swirl of lines, tiny filaments of moving gold. The Lake.