“How could anyone torment and cripple a lad like Daryan, or kill children to take over their bodies? Evil lives, Gwenno Marrakai, whether we see its reasons or not. The iynisin who killed the Lady of the Ladysforest … I do not understand them, but I cannot deny they exist.”

“But you killed one. And you healed the well and brought water again—”

As you should. As you must. Come, free us!

Dorrin tried to calm the voice in her head, the voice that could be only the crown in Vérella. To Gwenno she said, “I know my magery cleared the well, Gwenno, but the water—that, I truly believe, was the gods’ grace.”

No. Your own magery. Take your gift. Use your gift.

“My lord, I have heard … that the crown speaks to you. The one you gave the king.”

“How did you hear that?”

“It’s … it’s talked of, at court. The crown talks to you, and it cannot be moved unless you move it. Even the box it was in…”

“So much for keeping secrets,” Dorrin said. She wondered which of them had told it and to whom—the king, the Marshal-Judicar, Duke Mahieran? Did all the peerage know by now? It was almost laughable that she had kept the secret so close and they—who bade her keep it close—had blabbed.

“Your people here know about the well,” Gwenno said. “Kindle people told the neighboring vills—of course they did. And everyone noticed the change in the water of the stable well and the one down in the meadow after you spoke to the merin for them. Everyone thinks you have the water magery like the Sier of Grahlin in Gird’s time.”

The Sier of Grahlin, who had driven a river’s water underground and then forced it all out a well to break the fort Gird’s forces held in besieging his city.

“The water lifting you up in that well in Kindle was just like the water in Sier Grahlin’s well…”

“I hope not,” Dorrin said. “I certainly don’t aspire to be Sier Grahlin. He used that power to kill—”

“And you used it to bring clear water to people who had none. I know, my lord, you don’t like to talk about your magery, and you are teaching Beclan in secret, but—but I cannot help seeing what I see and thinking what I think.”

She couldn’t, Dorrin knew. Gwenno Marrakai was Marrakaien through and through, and for all her good traits of sanity, generosity, intelligence … she was also, still, enthusiastic and impulsive, traits with as much tendency to trouble as to peace. Best not to encourage that … or squash it, either. A difficult balance, given all the other elements in the current situation.

“Independence of vision is a good thing,” Dorrin said. “So is thinking. But speaking and acting well require reflection—consideration.”

“Yes, my lord.” Gwenno looked worried now.