“Then you had best start telling it,” said the Amal’othala.

I told him the whole, grateful for the practice the deposition and Prince Orchenis had given me. The Amal’othala listened without interrupting, his expression growing more and more sour. When I had finished, he said, “We will have to remind Prince Orchenis that a discovered tomb falls into the Amalomeire’s jurisdiction, not the principate’s and certainly not the University’s.”

I said nothing.

“And you have lost your ability to hear the dead.” He looked at me in pinch-faced exasperation. “What are we supposed to do with you?”

It was a rhetorical question, but it was also an opening. “Well, we were hoping that until Othalo Tomasaran is ready—”

“Until who?” said the Amal’othala.

“Othalo Tomasaran. The new Witness for the Dead?”

“What new Witness for the Dead?”

The Amal’othala and I stared at each other.

“Dach’othala Vernezar sent her to us with a letter,” I said.

“Vernezar did? Lumanar, send someone to fetch Vernezar at once.”

One of the canons bowed and left the room, not quite running.

“Vernezar,” said the Amal’othala, “does not have the authority to assign a prelate to a benefice, and he knows that, even if you don’t.”

“Witnessing is not a benefice,” I said.

“It comes to the same thing,” said the Amal’othala. “The Prelacy of Amalo is paying you exactly as we pay Othala Chanavar.” I said nothing, which seemed by far safer than any answer I could think of.

“Hestamar,” the Amal’othala said to the remaining canon, “find somewhere for Othala Celehar to wait. We will want to speak to him and Dach’othala Vernezar together.”

“Yes, Holiness,” the canon said and gestured to me. I followed him along the hall and down a short flight of stairs that dead-ended in a door. This the canon unlocked, and ushered me into a small room, starkly carved out of the rock, which contained five chairs and nothing else. We bowed to each other, and he left, shutting the door behind him.

At least there are chairs, I pointed out to myself and sat down. Nothing now to do but wait and hope the Amal’othala did not forget I was here.

I meditated. There had been little time and much need for it lately; although I could not quite bring myself to be grateful to the Amal’othala for the opportunity, I was not fool enough to waste it. I chose a simple prayer to Ulis in his moon aspect, which was his mildest face, and tried to sink into myself. I persevered through the Amal’othala’s scowl, Tomasaran’s anxiety, my own fatigue and uncertainty, but the next mental obstacle was the revethavar, and I jolted back to the reality of the barren room with five chairs.