Even at this distance, the Queen saw that two of the three were dressed in the garb of servants, loose brown shirts and breeches. They walked awkwardly; but they carried themselves with the straight backs and raised heads of men who were proud of what they did.

With one—servant?—on either side, the third shambled along as if he were embarrassed or craven. He wore the black robe of a priest.

A priest? Here?

She could not imagine what a spokesman for the Great God Rile was doing so close to her road. He should not have been free to wander anywhere in Amika. He should certainly not have been hidden in a place where he could watch for her.

Her enemies had used a Magister to prepare an ambush for her once. Could some traitor be relying on a priest now?

When Crayn had come halfway toward her, Estie realized that the steps of the captives were uncomfortable because their hands were tied behind their backs. Instinctively, she approved. She approved more when she saw that all three men were gagged.

The Commander had good reason for his precautions. He knew as much as his Queen did about the Great God’s priests. From her—and from every rumor rampant in Belleger’s Fist—he had learned that the Archpriest Makh had betrayed the realm. He had taken Elgart. In the process, he had caused one of Elgart’s bodyguards to be murdered. In addition, Magister Facile had claimed that the priests were not sorcerers themselves. Nevertheless they did exert sorcery, theurgy which they drew from some unexplained source. And they wielded it with their voices.

Crayn had bound the hands of his captives so that they could not remove their gags.

Was that necessary? Estie did not know. After the Archpriest had vanished, the priests in the Open Hand had seemed lost or bewildered; deprived of their essential conviction. Had Makh been the source of their power to sway the Great God’s followers by speaking?

If so, was he the only source?

The presence of a priest, any priest, in those woods was inherently disturbing. Queen Estie’s honor guardsmen should have captured him some time ago. Certainly, he should not have been hiding where he could watch the road.

And he should not have had servants. That was an incongruous detail. In both Belleger and Amika, the priests were not known to require servants.

With a wave, the Queen redirected Crayn toward the small cookfire near the carriage where her escort and Third Father waited, watching. Then she headed there herself.

If she had a sorcerer on her hands—or even a potential sorcerer—she was going to need Magister Facile.

As she neared her men, the monk stood to acknowledge her. “Queen,” he murmured, gazing at the grasses around her feet, or perhaps at her riding boots, “this is unexpected.” A slight shift of his head indicated Crayn’s approach. “A priest of the Great God? Here?

“I see that your Commander is wary of him.”