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.

In Ulvanensee, I found Anora alone, engaged in weeding the flagstoned courtyard. “Thara!” he said, getting to his feet. “I was hoping to see thee today.”

“Hast thou news, then?”

“I do. I have spoken to Osmin Temin’s uncle.”

“And?”

“They want nothing to do with her.”

“Even in burial?”

“Her uncle said he had disowned her ten years ago and saw no reason to change his mind.”

“That is very harsh.”

“From what you have told me of the woman, it is entirely warranted,” said Anora. “In any event, it relieves us of one problem: she can be buried with the other twenty-two bodies and no one will object.”

“Yes, and I have a paper from Osmer Ormevar so that your junior prelates can go collect the bodies.” I handed Anora the paper; he glanced at it and nodded approval.

“I’ll have them start tomorrow morning. And we’ll have to see about coffins.”

“They could go straight to the revethmerai, I think. There wasn’t much left but bones and cloth. Except for Osmin Temin, of course.”

“They should spend at least a season in reveth’osrel,” said Anora. “At least, if it were one of my relatives, I would want that.”

“Prince Orchenis would probably pay for the coffins,” I said.