Hurrying, she turned to the door.

Deliberately, Queen Estie put pity aside. In its place, she chose a tone of command. “Give me another moment, librarian. I have a second question.”

Magister Threnody whirled back to her. “A second?”

“While you search your memories, look also for books of poison.”

Oblique surged from her chair. “Poison?” she cried. Three steps took her to the librarian’s side. She seemed to hover protectively near Threnody. “You ask too much, Queen. Magister Marrow was not poisoned.”

Estie produced her kindest smile. “But the question may be crucial. It may lead us to Sirjane Marrow’s killer.”

“How?” demanded Magister Oblique.

“By the simplest means,” answered Estie. “For us,” she acknowledged, “if not for the librarian.

“Consider this. Magister Marrow’s death is not the first attempt at murder in the Repository.”

Beatrix Threnody looked like she wanted to weep. The devotee of Spirit smiled happily. Third Father watched the Queen as if he saw something in her that validated him. As if she had begun to surpass herself.

Groping for comprehension, Oblique asked, “Do you speak of Apprentice Travail? He was poisoned. But the shamans restored him. Do you know who poisoned him?”

“Of course not.” Estie relaxed her smile. It took too much effort. “I have only”—she hesitated, unsure how to explain herself—“an Amikan way of thinking. What is the likelihood that two such crimes would be committed in so short a time? After you learned that Rile’s armies are coming? Surely, it is plausible that one traitor attempted both murders?”

“But why?” demanded Magister Threnody. “Travail is only an Apprentice. He served us well, but he has no role in our defense. What would a traitor gain by his death?”

“Experience,” declared Estie. Then she softened her tone. “Consider it, librarian. He—or she—” She hesitated again. “I will say ‘he’ for convenience. He desired Magister Marrow’s death. He thought of poison. But he had to be sure that your healers could not undo his efforts. As a test, he chose a victim whose death would do harm, but who was not so necessary that the whole Repository would rally against his killer.”

“I do not understand,” murmured Magister Threnody.

“When his poison failed,” concluded the Queen, “he settled on gunpowder.”

Lylin nodded. She seemed to approve.

“But what do you want of me?” The librarian’s voice betrayed her alarm. “Do you expect me to find the killer among Magister Marrow’s memories?” She was panting as if the air had been sucked out of the room. “In his awareness of books?”