“But what wilt thou do?”

“Whatever the Archprelate decides,” I said helplessly. “I am a prelate. I must go where he tells me.”

“Needst thou be a prelate?” said Iäna.

It was lucky the street was deserted, for I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him.

“I put that badly,” said Iäna. “But if thou art no longer a Witness vel ama for the Dead, art thou necessarily still a prelate? Art thou necessarily not a Witness, for that matter? Most Witnesses cannot speak to the dead, either.”

“I am not a judicial Witness,” I said. “I’m not qualified.” I started walking again. “And if I have no ability to speak for the speechless, I am no use as a clerical Witness, either.”

“Most clerical Witnesses are not Witnesses vel ama.”

“They’re also sorely out of fashion. Even here in Amalo. People came to me because I am—was—a Witness vel ama, not because I was a clerical Witness.”

“All right,” said Iäna. “I will trust your knowledge on that point. But thou art still qualified to be a prelate.”

“I don’t want a benefice,” I said, and admitting it aloud was a surprising relief. “I have tried that, and it did not go well. But thou art correct; there are still many ways in which I can be useful as a prelate, and I cannot think of any way I can be useful if I am not.”

“Is that your criterion? Usefulness?”

“I must do something,” I said. “I spent some months at the Untheileneise Court doing nothing and I cannot face that again.”

“Thou couldst work for the Opera.”

“It is a kind thought, but I do not think I could bear to work with so many people.”

He laughed. “Thou art honest.”

I said, “My friend Anora has browbeaten me into writing to the Archprelate myself, and I did tell him that I would like to stay in Amalo.”

“Good.”

“But it may not be possible.”

“No, I understand. Thou must do as thy patron tells thee.”

I started to object that the Archprelate was not my patron, but on second thought, I saw Iäna’s analogy. “I am sorry,” I said.

“Why art thou sorry? It is no doing of thine.”

“There’s no one else alive to blame,” I said wryly.

“Then let the blame rest with Osmin Temin, where it belongs.”

“I keep thinking that there must have been something else I could have done. Something better.”

“Sometimes there isn’t,” Iäna said simply.

We started walking again, but we were silent the rest of the way to the Vermilion Opera.

In the middle of that mostly sleepless night, I realized I had forgotten to give Tomasaran the keys to her own office.

In the morning I went back to the Prince Zhaicava Building, beating Tomasaran there by almost two minutes. We traded back coats, and I handed her the office key.

“That’s yours,” she said.