They would be, if they were in fact adult minds—adult selves—in a child’s body. Adults biding their time. Adults who—she could hardly imagine this—would kill their own children to disguise themselves.

“When was Restin so sick? How often does the death-sickness come?”

“It’s mostly before they lose their milk teeth,” the maid said. “But sometimes after. Restin—it was five winters back, same year as Lord Carraig died.”

Dorrin shivered. Her father’s older brother; she remembered them both, too well. Could it be Carraig looking at her from Restin’s nine-winters face? “How many of the children here have had the death-sickness?”

“We’ve been worried about Mikeli; he’s pale and not growing well this past year. That’s an early sign, often. His mother bade us watch him closely. He’s four winters; I can show you—”

“What about older children, the ones sent off to Vérella?”

The maid frowned and began counting on her fingers. “Kosta, he’s twelve winters, and Berol, he’s eleven. Rolyan, Pedar—it’s strange, my lord, but boys get the death-sickness more than girls. I said once to my lady that maybe girls were stronger and she slapped me to the floor. But Syryan, she had it. A right little fireball she was before, all temper all day long, but after as ladylike as you please.”

And Dorrin had sent Valthan off with the prisoners thinking the adults would be the worst problem, that most of those children were not yet skilled in magery. Five children’s bodies that might—every instinct told her did—conceal adult intelligence, experience, and magery.

How long had it been going on? She remembered now one of her older brothers who’d been very sick and afterward seemed different. How many generations? Were some of those minds even older, passed down from one generation to another all the way back to Old Aare?

And what was she going to do about it? Her oath to the Crown required that she eliminate the threat from Verrakai. Carraig, if that’s who really inhabited Restin’s body, fell within the Order of Attainder. But who could believe that? She had to tell Valthan; she had to tell the prince. And she had to protect herself and the other children from whatever Carraig might choose to do.

“Since Restin is so mature,” she said to the maid, “I will want to speak with him in a little. He will better understand the situation than some of the others, don’t you think?”

“Yes, my lord,” the maid said. “We’ve made him our helper, you know.”

That did not surprise her. Restin, even in the shielded nursery, would be able to use his magery to charm the nurses. “Send him to me after supper,” Dorrin said. “I’ll be in the dining room.”

She found Selfer and explained what she understood. “I cannot be certain without forcing Restin to reveal himself—there’s a phrase that may work—but I dare not wait to warn Valthan. They will not have made it to the main road today; we must send a courier.”