“All the captains were,” Dorrin said. “Dirty water makes troops sick.” She thought back, trying to remember if she’d ever done anything, however minor, to indicate any power over water. Nothing came to mind. “I do not remember that I knew more, or was more careful, than the other captains. Besides, at that time my magery had been blocked by the Knight-Commander of Falk.”

“And was your cohort healthier than the others?”

“No less healthy, I would say,” Dorrin said. “Duke Phelan—King Kieri—was strict about cleanliness, and ours was healthier than most mercenary companies.” Then she laughed. “One thing, though—I like to swim. Arcolin can swim but does not much like it, and Cracolnya cannot.” She glanced from one to the other and then went on. “I do not think the answer to our puzzle lies in my past. It lies in these—” She touched the regalia.

That night, Dorrin dreamed of water … waves rising up, so clear she could see the fish swimming in them, stretching into the distance. She could smell the wet sand and rocks, feel wavelets lapping at her feet … and in that dream she walked out into the water until the waves lifted her feet from the sand below. She rode the waves the way a fallen leaf rides the current of a stream. She rose from the water in a fog, looking down on a land with streams and rivers that ran into a blue sea … and fell from the cloud as rain, to wake with rain spattering the windows of Verrakai House.

She listened to the rain and thought about the regalia. When she’d put the regalia back into the chest, the chest’s lid and body grew together again as soon as she took her hand from it. Whatever mind inhabited the regalia, it was determined to protect itself from anyone but her. Thieves could not steal it. Could another magelord? If Alured the Black had mage powers, would he be able to open the chest? Would the necklace function like a key?

The next day, a courier rode in from the south. Dorrin paid little attention; she had conferences scheduled with her bankers and several men of business. In late afternoon, she returned to Verrakai House to find that the courier had dropped off a letter from Arcolin, and the king wanted another private conference after dinner. He would, his message said, send an escort.

Arcolin’s letter occupied her for the next turn of the glass; she accepted the cup of sib Beclan brought her but did not speak until she had finished it. When she put it down, her squires were all three back in the house.

“I thought you were staying overnight with your family,” she said to Daryan.