Magister Oblique made a vexed gesture. “That is the Great God’s doing, not ours. Tyrants drive us into hiding.” As she spoke, she grew more heated. “You say we are not threatened. We are always threatened, Queen. Tyrants fear knowledge. It is the only true challenge to their rule. If you doubt me, think of your father. Think of what he denied you.”

Queen Estie did not pursue the argument. She had gained the opportunity she sought. With her most queenly smile, Estie said, “Then tell me this, Magister. Who chose Beatrix Threnody? Who selected her to be Sirjane Marrow’s successor?”

Tripped by the change of subject, Oblique stumbled. “Who chose—? I do not understand you. No one chose her. Her gift is an accident of birth, as Magister Bleak said. She has inherited the librarian’s knowledge and duties because she was born with the ability to apprehend them.”

The Queen smiled more broadly. “Magister Oblique, I begin to suspect that you misunderstand me deliberately. I will ask my question another way. Before he was killed, Magister Marrow knew that she would be his successor. He must have recognized his gift in her. But how did he find her? Did he examine everyone? Or was she put forward as his successor? Who knew what she was born to be before she did?”

Under pressure, Oblique did not see the trap. “I did,” she retorted. “That is my gift, Queen. I told her so that she could prepare herself for what was coming. And I brought her to Magister Marrow so that he, too, could prepare her.”

To steady herself, Queen Estie emptied her goblet in three quick gulps. With a thump, she set it down on the table.

“Then, Magister, you know the nature of my gift. But you have kept that secret from me.

“Will you tell me now? What am I that you did not expect?”

From his place by the inner door, Commander Crayn breathed audibly, “Yes.”

Caught, Magister Oblique stared for a moment. Then she gave a short, sardonic laugh. But her brief bitterness was directed at herself, not at Estie. She braced herself on the back of the nearest chair for support.

“No, Queen,” she answered. “I will not. But I understand you now. I will tell you what I can.”

Estie held her breath.

The sorceress took a moment to compose herself. Then she sighed.

“First, I must ask you to understand my dilemma. I did not answer you at once because Magister Marrow forbade me. He believed that your ignorance would serve the Repository in some way. He did the same to Prince Bifalt twenty years ago, and was pleased by the outcome. But Beatrix Threnody is not Sirjane Marrow. When you have been among us longer, you will feel the difference. Already, you have seen that she doubts herself. And Magister Marrow did not teach her to follow his path.