At once, Crayn went after her, barking silent demands. For an instant, she twisted as if she meant to slap his face. Then she mastered herself. Whatever she said seemed to ease him. He returned to his post by the door to his quarters.

With a shudder, Oblique brought herself back to Estie. She had ire in her eyes, and frustration, as she held out her hand, asking for Estie’s forearm.

Shaken by her own vehemence, Estie could not refuse.

The Magister’s touch was tense. It felt like anguish.

—Perhaps I appeared false to you. If I squirmed, as you call it, I had good cause.

—I do not understand Magister Facile’s conduct. She should not have spoken of your gift, not when she did not know what it is and could not prepare you for the burden. It is yours, not hers, yours to desire or refuse. No one else should be allowed to determine who and what you are. Since your arrival, I have tried to avoid compounding her fault.

As suddenly as it arose, Estie’s anger failed. A desire to weep threatened to overcome her.

Hoping that her unheard voice would suffice, she answered, “Magister Facile spoke to prepare me for my father. She wanted me to recognize who and what he was. I do not fault her.”

After a moment, Magister Oblique produced a tentative smile. Like an act of kindness, she wrote:

—Yet you are afraid. You have been afraid. How could you trust a woman who appeared to hold the secret you feared?

—Sadly, I cannot relieve you now. Perhaps Magister Avail will know what to say. If not, only plain courage will serve.

Estie shook her head. She could not expose her heart to Magister Avail. His moods were too extreme, and his losses did not resemble hers.

Concentrating so that only Oblique would hear her, she reverted to her gift.

I do not find courage in myself, Magister. The cost is too high. I am cut off. The silence is a knife. Without sound, I bleed. I cannot leave my rooms. There is too much silence everywhere.

Magister Avail cannot heal me.

To her surprise, Oblique had a reply ready.

—Then let others come to you, Queen. There are people here who fear for you, or who simply mean well. Let them visit you. One at a time, at your own pace. Accept what they offer. Let them show you that you are not entirely cut off.

Then she added:

—With your consent, I will stay to translate for you. Your Commander is an admirable man, but he is not fluent. For the present, I have no duties that I cannot fulfill whenever you choose to rest. Let me help you.

Estie hesitated. Can you understand me when I speak aloud? Do I speak clearly?

Oblique’s smile became a beam.