Although she had hardly moved, she ached in every joint. The force of the explosion lingered. Unsteadily, she murmured, “Thank you, Commander. I must have needed rest.” With an effort, she calmed herself. “But I cannot imagine who here would say that I am needed.”

“Magister Oblique, of course.” With a touch on the flagon, Crayn encouraged Estie to drink again. “The woman who must now be the librarian, Magister Threnody. Another Magister whose name I do not know. Also, the monk who traveled with us, Third Father. And the devotee Lylin.

“Your sitting room grows crowded, Majesty.” While Estie took another swallow or two, the Commander added, “Servants come and go. A few physicians. Magister Avail visited briefly. He came to assure you that his friend would live. He must have meant the hunchback, Magister Rummage. The rest intend to remain until you speak with them.”

Gods! she muttered to herself. And she had slept for two days? Anything could have happened. There was treachery in the Repository. Magister Marrow might not be the only victim. Or the Farsighted may have seen something dire.

“Then I must go out to them.” She pushed back her blankets, looked at herself. She was still wearing the gown she had chosen for her meeting with Magister Marrow. It was filthy now, clotted with dust, gunpowder residue, and blood that may have been hers or anyone’s. “I need clothes, Crayn.”

He nodded. “That is your only gown, Majesty. Your other garments are riding attire. But they are clean. While you empty that flagon”—he nodded to encourage her—“I will set out apparel. Then I will reassure your visitors while you dress.”

With her consent, he crossed the room to a cabinet and opened it to select an outfit.

Cautiously, Estie swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

Her joints were more than stiff. Every muscle felt crushed. The sudden jolt of pain left her light-headed. But as she forced herself to stretch, the sharpness receded to a more endurable ache. Drinking the last of the water cleared her head.

“I need to bathe,” she told Crayn. She seemed to have grit and gunpowder ground into her skin. “Tell our visitors that I will be quick.”

The Commander smiled. “As you say, Majesty.” Moving a little stiffly himself, he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

The room was cold. Unattended, the fire in the hearth had gone to ash. Shivering, Estie hastened to wash off the worst of the grime and dress.

Magister Oblique had evaded direct questions about the Queen’s hidden gift. Magister Marrow had expected her husband and everyone in Belleger to die. Now he was dead himself. There was at least one traitor in the Last Repository. And she was needed?

Gods! She hoped that she had wit enough to meet the challenge. She did not feel ready for it.