Osmin Tativin was a middle-aged elven lady, tall, thin, and ferret-faced; she was wearing onyx mourning beads in her hair and hanging from her ears. My knock on the open door startled her; she came bolt upright from where she had been leaning over a secretary-desk. “Oh! Oh, othala, how you frightened us!”

“We beg your pardon,” I said. “Are you Osmin Tativin?”

“Yes,” she said, frowning in puzzlement. “Were you looking for us?”

“We are Thara Celehar, a Witness for the Dead. The Marquess Ulzhavel has petitioned us to Witness for his wife, Tomilo Ulzhavel.”

The formal phrases seemed to alarm her further. “But what reason is there to petition a witness for the marquise? There is no question about how she died.”

“The marquess believes she was murdered.”

Her knees nearly buckled. I lunged across the room to steady her, but she braced herself on the secretary-desk and said, “We beg your pardon. But murder? Who would want to murder the marquise?”

“You don’t know of anyone?”

“She was kindness itself,” said Osmin Tativin.

“The marquess thinks she could have angered someone with her charitable work.”

Osmin Tativin frowned. “The marquess is angry over his wife’s death. He wishes there to be someone to blame, but there is not. She died of a coronary. Here in this room. We … we saw her die. How could she have been murdered?”

“We do not know,” I said, “but the marquess’s concerns seem reasonable to us. What charities was the marquise involved with?”

Osmin Tativin bit her lip, her ears dipping, then seemed to decide there was no harm in answering my question. “Education, mainly. She served on the boards of several schools for orphans and foundlings, and she helped start a school for airmen’s children. She was also interested in some of the efforts to improve conditions in places like the Marigold Rookeries. And she was very keen to start a school for girls—not a school. More of a university.”

“A university for girls?”

She bristled. “Do you disapprove?”

“No. We were just surprised that a lady of the marquise’s age would support such a thing.”

“She felt very strongly about education,” said Osmin Tativin. “Very strongly.”

“Do you know of anyone she might have angered?”

Osmin Tativin looked horrified. “You don’t think it’s true, do you?”

“We have been asked to witness for the marquise,” I said patiently. “This means we must explore the possibility.”

“We can think of no one.”

I was fairly sure she was lying. “How about disagreements?”

“Well, of course,” said Osmin Tativin, who was now wringing her hands. I was relieved that she was not hardening her stance and insisting that the marquise had never disagreed with anyone, either. “But we don’t want to accuse anyone of murder.”

“We certainly would not take any information you give us as an accusation.”