Sereva came up behind her and gave her another hug. “And you’re tired. And your way has been very strange. Go to bed. We’ll talk some more in the morning.”

*   *   *

But the morning brought its fresh shocks. Or the afternoon, really, since Kit could not manage to drag herself from her room till well past noon. She had slept and woken, slept and woken, so many times that she lost all sense of time and could not tell if she had been in this bed for days or merely hours. When she finally rose, she was starving, but she felt so grimy that she had to take a long, thorough bath before she would let herself go downstairs in search of food.

One of the servants met her in the dining room, inquired what she wanted for a meal, and added that hela Candachi wanted to see her as soon as she was ready. So Kit ate quickly and joined Sereva and an unfamiliar woman in Sereva’s sitting room.

“Good morning, Kitrini. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be among us again until tomorrow,” Sereva greeted her. “Angeline, this is my cousin, Kitrini Candachi. Kitrini, this is Angeline Marcosa, Granmama’s lawyer.”

Angeline Marcosa nodded and assessed Kit with one quick glance. She was a middle-aged, self-possessed woman who looked efficient and professional; mid-caste, Kit guessed, but intelligent and hardworking enough to make herself both powerful and dangerous.

“We were just going over the terms of your grandmother’s will,” the lawyer said in a cool voice. “She was, as you probably know, quite fanatical about the upkeep and disposal of her property, and she rarely let a month go by without consulting me on some small change or bequest she wanted to make.”

Kit nodded tranquilly. None of this mattered to her since not an acre of her grandmother’s property would go to her. A personal bequest, that would be nice, maybe even a small legacy, but the bulk of the property would go to Sereva and the rest to a few other relatives.

“Granmama liked to keep her hand in,” Kit said equably.

Angeline Marcosa consulted her notes. “About three months ago, when she called me in, she made a few substantial changes in regards to two of her smaller properties. The last time I saw her—which was only two weeks ago—she went over every item in her will again and approved them each individually. So it is my professional opinion that this final will stands as the last record of her intentions.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Kit said.

“Kitrini, she left you Munetrun,” Sereva broke in.

“She what?” Kit said faintly.

“And the city house,” the lawyer added.

“She left me Munetrun? But that’s her—I mean, I know it’s small, but that was her favorite property. She told Bascom. I heard her.”