“But what’s the use?”

Anora gave me a disbelieving look over his glasses. “Dost not want the Archprelate to hear thy version of the story the Amal’othala tells? And if thou wishest to stay in Amalo, he will not know it unless thou tellst him. Dost thou wish to stay in Amalo?”

“Not without some kind of purpose,” I said.

“Thou art ducking the question, Thara,” Anora said dryly.

I thought guiltily of Iäna. “I am comfortable here,” I said. “Perhaps I should welcome change instead of fearing it.”

“Perhaps thou shouldst write the Archprelate and tell him thou wishest to stay. And tell him about the revethavar and the tomb.”

“That was another thing the Amal’othala was angry about,” I said. “That the Amalomeire had not been consulted.”

“I think the Archprelate needs to hear the story from thee,” Anora said. “If thou dost not wish to plead thy case, that is thy choice. But I do not trust the Amal’othala to tell the story straight.”

“I concede thy point,” I said. “I do not trust the Amal’othala either.”

“Wilt tell him thou wishest to stay?”

“Thou art insistent.”

“Thara. I am thy friend. Of course I want thee to stay. But not if thou dost not wish to.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “And in any event, I cannot stay if the Archprelate does not assign me something to do, for the Amal’othala is not going to keep paying my stipend.”

“A good point,” said Anora. “But it still does not hurt to make thy wishes known.”

“I wish I knew what they were,” I said ruefully. “But you are correct. I will write to the Archprelate and tell him of the revethavar. And, yes, I promise I will tell him I am comfortable here.”

“Good,” said Anora. “I have pen and paper here if thou likest.”

“Dost fear I will not do it?”

“No, no, I trust thee. I just want to get the letter to the Archprelate as fast as we can. I know the Amal’othala’s will get there first, but I would rather thine were panting on its heels than lost in the dust.”

“Yes,” I said. “I hadn’t thought that far. I will write the letter now.”

“Good,” said Anora. “Use my desk. I will go hire a courier.”

“A courier?” I stared at him. “Anora, I can’t afford to pay for a courier.”

“I can.”

“But I can’t let thee—”

“Of course thou canst.”

“But why?”

“I want the Archprelate to receive the truth of how thou wert injured before he makes any decisions about what to do with thee now.”

“The Archprelate would hardly—”

“We don’t know what the Amal’othala will tell him, but he will almost certainly suggest that thou be called back from Amalo.”

“Oh,” I said and thought again of Iäna. “Well, if I cannot stop thee—”

“Thou canst not.”

“I will write the letter,” I said.