“He should be,” returned Estie.

“Perhaps.” The monk lifted his shoulders in a subtle shrug. “Will you hear my counsel, Queen?”

As Crayn brought the priest and the servants closer to face Amika’s Queen, a screen of clouds slid like gauze over the sun. They cast a slight haze like hinted shadows over the carriage and the guardsmen, Esties, and the Commander’s prisoners.

For a moment, she scrutinized the black-robed man. Behind his gag and his obvious consternation, he had a round face, a fleshy nose, and plump, beardless cheeks. Taken together, his features gave an impression of harmlessness. If he had smiled, he might have conveyed perfect sincerity. But his eyes contradicted the effect of his face. They were a sharp, almost startling blue that suggested both fright and cunning.

In contrast, the priest’s men had no distinguishing features apart from a curious lack of deference—or perhaps of apprehension. Strong frames, muscular arms and legs. Common mouths and noses. Eyes of no particular hue. Untended beards. Estie had seen a hundred men like them in Belleger, or a thousand. They could have been Amikan, although their skin did not have the sallow hue of her people. But they stood erect on either side of their presumed master, looking straight ahead with an air of disinterest. Instead of fighting their gags, they gnawed the wads of cloth, as untroubled as cows chewing cuds.

Were they servants? Truly? Queen Estie doubted that. She would not have been astonished to learn that they were bodyguards. They may even have been the priest’s captors.

With the priest and his men in front of her, she found it difficult to answer Third Father. She felt unaccountably alarmed. Strangers bound and gagged were no threat to her or her company. Nevertheless a nameless apprehension nagged at her.

Temporizing, she asked the Commander, “Did they resist, sir? Or try to flee?”

Crayn looked quizzical. “No, Majesty. We took them without difficulty. I am tempted to say they expected capture.”

The priest watched Estie as if he were eager for an invitation to speak.

Unsure of herself, she answered the monk. “Of course, Father.” She knew the worth of his counsel.

Third Father nodded another bow. “As you know, Queen,” he said carefully, “the priests in Belleger appear to have lost their way. Perhaps this man has also. He may be harmless. In that event, he may be willing to explain his presence. By choice or by chance, he may shed some light on the doings of the Church. It might be wise to question him.”

While Queen Estie considered her choices, she glanced around at her company. Her guardsmen were on their feet, watching the strangers warily. The teamsters were some distance away on the far side of the carriage with their heavy beasts. Estie hoped to see Magister Facile looking out from her seat in the carriage, but the window shades were closed.