“Well,” said Osmer Ormevar. “I may have gotten around that by talking to Udrichalar.”

“Udrichalar can’t agree to that sort of thing unilaterally.”

“No, but he can talk to Trivonezh and secure funding.”

“It still has to go to a vote.”

“By the time the Senate meets, the vote will be in favor.”

“You have been very busy,” said Osmer Rohethar.

“And it’s one in the eye for the Amalomeire,” said Osmer Ormevar with great satisfaction. “Orchenis refused to believe that they had more right to the tomb than we did, especially since they weren’t willing to pay for guards. Oh, hello, Othala Celehar! Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so gratified by the discomfiture of the prelacy.”

I said, “Are you just going to have the entrance guarded forever?”

“Not ideally,” said Osmer Ormevar. “We just need to design something that can make that grille impassable—but that can be removed to allow entry.”

“Like a door?” Osmer Rohethar asked dryly.

“Well, yes, essentially. Oh, bother you, Rohethar. You know what I mean.”

“Not at all,” said Osmer Rohethar, and they both laughed.

“Othala Celehar must think we are madmen,” said Osmer Ormevar. “But that reminds me. The bodies. Have you worked out what is to become of them?”

“They will be buried properly in Ulvanensee,” I said. “The junior prelates will transport them once they have permission to enter the tomb. But we were not sure whom to ask.”

“That is a good question,” said Osmer Ormevar. “But as of today, the answer is me. Rohethar, have you a blank half sheet?”

Osmer Rohethar wordlessly tore a sheet out of his notebook and handed it and his pen to Osmer Ormevar.

“You are kindness itself. You must have a stick of wax somewhere.”

“Of course,” said Osmer Rohethar.

Osmer Ormevar cleared a space on Osmer Rohethar’s desk and bent to write a paragraph-worth of words in a lovely, lyrical hand. He took the wax Osmer Rohethar offered, heated it with his lighter, and then planted his signet firmly at the bottom of the page.

“There,” he said, folding the paper in half, and gave it to me. “They can show that to anyone they need to.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I will give this to Othala Chanavar tonight.”

“Good,” said Osmer Ormevar. “And I still need to talk to my friend at the municipal library. I’ll see you at dinner, Rohethar.” And he strode out as abruptly as he had stridden in.

On the way from the University to Ulvanensee, I bought copies of all three of Amalo’s newspapers and read them carefully. It had been difficult, when Goronezh and the other newspapermen had cornered me, not to tell them too much, but while the papers had a great deal of speculation about the contents and history of the tomb, they did not mention there being a revethavar at all, and I was referred to only as the Witness for the Dead—they had been more interested in Tomasaran than in me, and she had gotten a good, swift lesson in how to fend the newspapermen off one’s private life.