“As long as you’re safe that’s all that matters. Have you been well, Bee? Have you had quite a bit of trouble?”

“Yes. It’s not the first time a public meeting has been attacked in that aggressive way. I can’t get used to it.”

“You’re not meant to get used to it! What happened after you and Rory left me in the spirit world?”

She wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. “Rory and I swam ashore in the city of Camlun at the festival of Beltane. We traveled to Havery, where we were courteously received at the law offices. We’ve been with the radicals ever since. It’s been more dangerous than I imagined. Professora Nayo Kuti was arrested in Lutetia for the crime of spreading sedition!”

“What happened?” I demanded.

“We believe the mage House in Lutetia pushed the Parisi prince to take the step,” said Brennan with a crooked smile meant to remind me of why he had to be careful with mages. “However, her husband is a man of considerable status in Massilia. Through his efforts she was released and sent back to Massilia.”

“Professora Nayo Kuti is married?” I said. “I thought Kehinde was an independent woman.”

Bee’s gloved hand slipped from mine and she leaned over to rest a hand on Brennan’s knee in a gesture so intimate and familiar that I looked sharply away lest I blurt out an inappropriate question that would embarrass us all. My thoughts whirled dizzily.

“I am sorry regardless to hear she was arrested,” I lumbered on, “but I am glad to hear she was released in a timely manner to a safe place. I hope she is still writing.”

“She is still writing and her pamphlets travel across Europa.” Brennan nodded at Bee.

She withdrew her hand and tucked it into the bend of my elbow. “I pray your escape was not too much of an ordeal, dearest. Is Andevai unharmed? I hope we will have time to prepare him before he sees Rory wearing his ruined dash jacket.”

Brennan chuckled.

I sighed. “He is much the same as ever, as you will see. Bee, where is your sketchbook?”

She had it with her, for her sketchbook was like my cane: We never went anywhere without them. I paged through to the sketch of the tailor’s shop.

“When Maester Godwik recognized the eggs atop the towers as the architecture of Sala’s palace, I knew I had to come to Sala,” she said. “I hoped you would remember. And you did!”

I flipped to the sketch of the false dream.

“Cat!” she whispered, with a glance toward Brennan, who had closed his eyes in a kindly attempt to give us a little privacy. “Why do I need to look at this? I try to forget I ever drew it.”