As she led him down the corridor to the entrance of the House, Arleej could think of nothing to say, only a stream of questions best left for another time. They stepped out of the House to find a hired platten had just arrived carrying a family with a sick child. She hailed the driver.

“Are you free for another ride?” she asked.

“Where to?” the man asked.

“The Temple,” she instructed. “The back entrance.”

The driver’s eyebrows rose. She bartered a fair price and paid the man, then watched as Leiard climbed aboard.

“I expect I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes.” Leiard smiled then turned to face the front. Taking this as a cue, the driver flicked the reins and the vehicle drew away.

Arleej shook her head slowly. It was odd, indeed, to be sending a Dreamweaver “home” to a Circlian Temple.

When the vehicle had turned out of sight, she hurried back inside the House. As she expected, her closest confidant, Dreamweaver Neeran, was waiting for her in the hall. His eyes were wide with wonder.

“That was…was…”

“Astounding,” she agreed. “Come up to my room. We need to talk.”

“Of all the people to have Mirar’s memories,” he breathed as he followed her up the stairs, “it had to be the Dreamweaver adviser to the White.”

“An extraordinary man in an extraordinary position,” she agreed. Reaching the door to her room, she pushed it open and ushered Neeran inside. He turned to stare at her.

“Do you think the White know?”

She considered. “If he didn’t, then how could they?”

“All of the White can read minds. Surely Juran will have recognized something of Mirar in Leiard.”

Arleej thought of Leiard’s words: “…all minds are visible to the White.”

“If Juran has, then he was not bothered by it. If he hasn’t, well, now that this is known by us and Leiard, the White will discover it too. I only hope this will not cause him trouble.”

Neeran’s eyes widened and he nodded in agreement. “They also know that Leiard has been working to our mutual benefit.” He looked up at Arleej. “Which is curious in itself, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Curious that someone with so much of Mirar in them would encourage this alliance?”

“Yes.”

“No matter what the White do about Leiard, one thing is clear.” She moved to the fireplace, where a bottle of ahm stood warming beside the hearth. “We should consider the possibility, strange as it may seem, that an alliance between Somrey and the White is what Mirar would have wanted.”