The princess watched the open exchange and realized that the two were not even trying to conceal their association. This made the act of puzzling it out no longer fun and quite unpleasant. Farilane felt insulted, as if these two were playing a joke on her. “All right, enough of this. It’s clear the two of you know each other. Also, since the empress dowager was expecting me, Kile must have sent advance word of our arrival. I admit I don’t know how you managed that. Given Kile’s unusual behavior since the start of this adventure, I can see he is much more than he appears. I have long suspected something unusual about him but haven’t yet puzzled it out—short of him being a god in disguise, of course.” She smiled. “All of this is fascinating on a certain level, but I’m short on time. An army of Teshlors is hunting me and given that everyone seems to know I was coming here—even before I knew it myself—I can assume those following me will arrive soon. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to the point at hand. I’m here in the hope of finding the Horn of Gylindora so I can save the empire and possibly all of mankind. Legend holds that it disappeared at the time of the Emperor Nyphron’s death—an event you, my great-great-great-grandmother, were at. So I was hoping you could explain what happened that day and what became of the horn. You do know, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I know. I know all of it.”

“Wonderful.” Farilane grinned, clapped her hands together, and leaned forward in her seat with interest. “Please tell us. And since I’m positive that Kile knows all of this already, maybe he can root around in the pantry and find us some cakes and perhaps a bit of tea.”

Sheldon also leaned forward, and to her surprise, Kile actually did walk over to the cabinetry and begin to search.

Sephryn set down the letter, and asked Kile, “Can I? May I tell them the truth?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Your time of secrecy is over.”

Sephryn nodded, sat back, brushed out her skirt, and took a deep breath. “On the eight hundred and thirty-third anniversary of Persephone’s death and the founding of the capital, Nyphron was murdered in public, in daylight, in the city’s center, and the horn was stolen. Both of these acts were done by the same person, and the killer was never caught, never brought to justice, but I wouldn’t say she was never punished.” Sephryn shook her head. “She has been, and will be, punished for all eternity.”

Farilane straightened up. “It was you?” She looked at the mantel at the great bow of Moya. “During the ghazel attack . . .”

“I put an arrow—no—I put the Arrow through his throat.”

“Why?”