“The papers could have been handed in at any time before your arrival at the headquarters this morning, Reverend Somme,” she continued. “Correct?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“So there is a period of ten hours during which this might have taken place.”

“Acolyte Raughn.” Asan ignored Verje. Her strident voice carried over her fellow Councilwoman’s with ease. “Do you know where Herald Lenard planned to meet her wife?”

I quickly detailed what Zenza had told me about her intentions for the evening: a concert on Caon Square, dinner in Minor East. Asan took brief notes as I spoke.

“So you and Herald Lenard headed in opposite directions after you made your delivery to the warehouse?” she verified.

“Yes.”

“If I might be so bold,” said Reverend Jiana Morwin, “it seems very generous of you to perform your supervisor’s job for her.”

Morwin’s voice emerged breathless and reedy, lacking in all force. In contrast to the other Reverends—and especially Asan, who held the podium next to hers—the Head of Public Health appeared oddly diminutive. Although she was of average height, she carried herself with a pronounced stiffness, like she was trying to shrink down into a smaller mold.

“I had no particular plans for the evening,” I answered. “The headquarters were along my route back to the dormitories; I thought that I might head home afterwards.”

“‘Thought that you might’?” Morwin repeated. She glanced at Verje like she was seeking backup.

“I changed my mind after I delivered the reports.”

“Why?”

I met her gaze. “No real reason. I decided to visit the markets.”

“And this necessitated taking off your robes?” asked Verje.

For a moment, I couldn’t make sense of the question.

“According to Reverend Somme,” Verje continued, taking advantage of my silence, “a set of robes was found in your office. Yours, presumably. Why did you remove your robes?”

“Because I considered them a little formal for the occasion.” A hint of impatience crept into my voice. “Not that I can see how this is relevant to the murder of my supervisor.”

“I think you’ll find that the Council decides what’s relevant. Do you have anyone who can verify your story?”

“No.”

“No one you spoke to, no friends?”

“I’m not the most sociable person. I did ask some merchants about prices, but I doubt they’ll remember me.”

“So it’s impossible to know whether your version of events is true?”

“Reverend Verje,” said Asan, with eyes like daggers. “I’m not sure what your motivation is for discrediting this particular witness, but perhaps you could rein in the amateur sleuthing until such time as she has actually presented her account of the evening.”

Verje made a dismissive gesture of acquiescence, and Asan’s lips thinned. She turned back to me.

“Could you describe everything you remember from the time you entered the Lokon District until you reached the Food Management headquarters?” she said. “You don’t need to detail any subsequent shopping.”

Somme rubbed her temples as if nursing a migraine.