The elven man in livery said, “Please wait in the hall, othala,” and he went to find out whether the marquess would see me.

I waited beside the door, where there was one window with the drapes open, trying not to imagine what it would be like to spend all my time in this gloom, and wondering whether this was a reaction to the marquise’s death, or if the marquess had always chosen to live like this.

When the servant returned, the marquess was with him. “Othala Celehar! What have you found?”

“We regret that we cannot report anything conclusive,” I said. “We have come to ask if you would consent to an autopsy.”

“An autopsy?” He considered the matter. “You hope to find proof that she was murdered?”

“We have spoken to the Master of the Mortuary at the Sanctuary, and he says there is a poison that exactly mimics a thunderclap coronary. He doesn’t know if it would still be detectable after three months, but he’s willing to find out.”

“That’s my nephew Otila’s younger son. The elder is my heir. Csenaia was always the bright one.”

There was no safe answer to that. I waited, and he said, “Yes, all right. If you can prove she was murdered, perhaps it will be easier to get people to talk to you. Everyone loves a scandal.”

But no one wanted to be involved in a murder. That, however, was not a discussion I wished to have with the marquess. I said, “Where is the marquise buried?”

“Csenaia will know,” he said with a harsh laugh. “Thank you, othala.” He turned and started back the way he had come. I bowed to his back and left to walk to the Sanctuary of Csaivo.

I found Ulzhavar again in the mortuary, this time alone and making notes in a massive ledger he had open on the autopsy table. “Celehar,” he said in greeting. “What is the word on your potential poisoning victim?”

“Her husband has agreed to an autopsy. He says that you will know where she is buried.”

“That I will know?” He looked baffled for several seconds, then winced as he understood. “It’s Great-Aunt Tomilo.”

“Did you know her?”

“Not at all well. My father was rarely on speaking terms with the marquess. My brother isn’t on speaking terms with him now. I do know where Great-Aunt Tomilo is buried, because I attended the funeral. Otilis did not.”

“That’s rather…”

“The marquess has banned him from the compound, so I’m not entirely sure whether it was pique or common sense.”

“I see.”

“Otilis is a little too obvious in his belief that the sooner the marquess dies the better. I can’t blame the old man for banning him. But no matter. Great-Aunt Tomilo is buried in Ulmavonee.”

“Ulmavonee?” I said, certain I had misheard. Ulmavonee was the municipal cemetery of Paravi, which was a long way from the Ulzhavadeise compound.