“You hope that we will send aid to Belleger. We understand. Who would not? King Bifalt fights for us. But Magister Marrow’s death—his murder, Queen—raises a more imperative concern. The war is distant. We are threatened here. If we do not answer that threat, the Repository may be lost before the Great God can harm it. Your realm and King Bifalt’s will perish in a wasted effort.

“We must find Magister Marrow’s killer.”

Estie raised her eyebrows. “And you believe that I can assist you?”

“If you cannot,” countered Magister Oblique, “who can? We do not know how to proceed. Murder is unknown here. We have no experience with treachery. We are fortunate that Magister Rummage lives. He would be our first recourse. But his wound is grievous. He can do nothing until he heals. And he cannot advise us. Like us, he is baffled.

“The most holy devotee Lylin tells us that you have known treachery. We hope that you can guide our search for the culprit. We must answer this threat.”

Surprised, Estie took a moment to think. Her first impulse was to bargain. Would the Magisters send aid to Bifalt if she helped them? Would they name her gift for her? Almost at once, however, she realized that bargaining would not strengthen her position. The Repository was in too much peril.

Forcing herself, she put her own needs aside.

While her visitors waited for a reply, she remembered the goblet in her hands, took another sip. Temporizing while she considered possible strategies, she said, “I know too little about the uses of sorcery. I have been told that it cannot read minds. Are there theurgists who distinguish between truth and falsehood?”

Magister Oblique spread her hands. “There are, Queen. But what is the use? Multitudes live here. How can we examine them all? The enemy will not allow us so much time.”

“I see.” The Queen nodded. “Then here is another thought.

“Magister Marrow must have spoken with Master Ungabwey. They must have reached some understanding. Why else would the caravan-master attempt the passes through the Realm’s Edge? And it was his custom, was it not, to rely on counselors? Were any of your people present when Magister Marrow spoke with him? They may have heard details that Magister Marrow did not share with you.”

The new librarian winced. Both Magister Oblique and the devotee of Spirit looked to Third Father.

The monk cleared his throat. “Yes, Queen,” he said carefully. “Master Ungabwey often desired counsel. I have served him in that way. And others—” For a moment, he appeared to lose the path of his thoughts. His gaze wandered the floor. Then he chose his answer. “The most holy devotees Flamora and Amandis were present on that occasion. They are absent now. And I was absent then.” With a small sigh, he added, “Fifth Daughter attended Master Ungabwey.”