Maria listened for a long time. Horses fidgeted; men went out into the snow and relieved themselves. Sukey began to issue food.

“The Odine took it.” She looked at the tattooed creature. It looked miserable.

“And this?” Gabriel pointed to the blackened hole, or socket.

Silence.

Finally, the tattooed salamander spoke. The one in the jade torque interrupted him, and bared his fangs. The exchange grew heated, in what sounded to the better-trained ears present like two or even three different languages, and at one point, Brown pushed between the two.

Lucca glanced at Sauce, got a nod, and bowed to the emperor. “Lord, I don’t have the language to follow; but I know how to run the Question. Send the bastard in the torque away.”

“They have factions?” Gabriel asked.

Maria shook her head. “I cannot even hazard a guess,” she admitted.

Gabriel motioned to Ser Daniel and a dozen green men-at-arms. “Take this gentleman to the warm springs and let him bathe,” he said.

The torque wearer drew himself, or herself, up to fullest extent and spat a long speech in heavy syllables. And then was marched away.

“He says that we are fools, slaves playing at masters; that he now understands that we do not even know what we are doing; that he will not aid us or speak again, and he wishes he had ordered this other one killed, but he is a priest and not really a person.” Maria shrugged. “I think that’s what he said. Honestly, my lord, I am out of my depth.”

“I think you are the hero of this piece,” Gabriel said warmly. “Now ask our friend here again.”

“Through that gate used to be a Qwethnethog world. There was a war, after which sorcerers and priests closed the gate forever.” She took a deep breath. “She says, that way lies the Qwethnethog empire. Or it did. I have no reference for time, my lord. She refers each time to cycles and I cannot guess how long these cycles are.”

“Ask where the Quazitsh empire is located,” Gabriel said.

Silence.

He nodded.

So did Brown. “They ain’t fools,” Brown said.

“So,” Gabriel said to sum up. “Leftmost green jewel is probably the root into their heartland.”

“Gates open different times,” Mortirmir said. “They might have come through one, or two, or five.”

“Why is she helping us at all?” Tancreda asked Maria.

“She thinks we might be allies. She doesn’t seem to have the . . . prejudice . . . of the war leader, about our being slaves. Permission to speculate wildly?”

“Of course,” Gabriel said, looking at the jewels.

Maria’s shoulders hunched; her hesitancy was in every inch of her spine, but she pushed on. “Everyone makes war on everyone,” she said, “and the war between Quazitsh and Qwethnethog is very old; but they, at least, ally against dragons and Odine. Who, I may add, they refer to as Odine.”