A faint jangle sounded. Puzzled, Mai straightened. Footsteps sounded on the walkway, and a moment later—quite amazingly—an elderly man dressed in the blue traveling cloak and gaudy colors of an envoy of Ilu trotted up into the chamber.

“Here you are, verea,” he said in an amiable voice, as if he were accustomed to entering her chambers every morning, like a favorite uncle. “I heard you were feeling poorly. Not that I have much in the way of healing knowledge or any cunning herbcraft—you’d need a mendicant for that—but I wanted to come tell you that I’ve consulted with various temples and your architect and we’ve come up with a proper siting for seven altars. Simple structures could be erected within the week. Once the altars are in place, there’s no further impediment if you wish to see marriages go forward.”

Chief Tuvi stamped in, sword drawn. “Where did you come from?”

The envoy’s smile was sweet and harmless. “I walked in, ver. Didn’t you give me permission yourself?”

This statement caused the chief to look confused.

Mai stepped forward. “It’s all right, Chief, let him stay. I asked him to come see me when he had news about establishing local temples.”

The chief glanced at Avisha, and she flushed. He was a good-looking man in his own way, if very old, probably as old as her father. But he was formidable and important, and everyone listened to him.

“Will you share tea, Your Holiness?” Mai asked.

“With thanks at your gracious offer.” The man settled easily on a pillow. He indicated the disordered coverlet. “Not sleeping well? A common complaint later in pregnancy, so I am told. Hard to get comfortable, I should think.”

She sighed as she looked at him, as if ready to speak.

“Missing your husband?”

She blushed and looked away. “He is very busy.”

“Yes, indeed.” The envoy frowned. “Very busy.”

“Is something wrong, Your Holiness?”

“Neh, nothing. It’s true enough, with the troubles in Haldia, that Olo’osson must consider how to protect itself.”

“I don’t like the Barrens,” said Mai. “But I must not complain.”

“Why not?” The envoy glanced at Avisha, and she looked away, wondering why his benign gaze seemed so discomfiting.

“Anji would be disappointed in me.”

“Would he?”

Really! thought Avisha. That holy man ought to know better than to grind his finger into an open sore!

“There is plenty for me to do,” said Mai. “Anyway, if I mope, then the baby will have a sullen personality.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s what Grandmother always said to her sons’ wives. Although how it would explain Uncle Girish’s cruel ways, or Uncle Shai’s silence—I don’t suppose Grandmother thought of that when she was criticizing the others, did she?” Cheered by this thought, Mai accepted the teapot from Priya and with dainty gestures poured four cups.

“Uncle Girish, eh?”

“Let’s not talk about him. He’s dead now, anyway.” She offered him the first cup, which he took. She then offered Chief Tuvi a cup, and she and Priya picked up the third and fourth. With a nod from Mai, they all drank. Avisha smelled the sharp tang, and her mouth watered.