The Queen in Estie recognized the truth of Oblique’s assertion. The woman in her, the forlorn wife, felt the kind of pain that she would have expected from a knife in her chest. Oblique’s bald statement seemed to redouble the force of her grief. She had tried so hard to give up hope for Bifalt.

She might have responded with enough force to drive the women from her rooms; but Commander Crayn was already kneeling in front of her. He had heard the librarian. In an instant, he had shoved the table aside to reach her. Resting his hands on her thighs, he wrote:

—Majesty? Majesty! What they say is kindly meant. It does not lessen you.

Startled, Beatrix Threnody flinched. She did not know what she had done to alarm the Commander. Briefly, Magister Oblique’s hand clenched. Then her touch eased to a caress.

Estie ignored them. Crayn had all of her attention.

His open concern was a gift. It was his form of sorcery. She could accept it from him, if not from either of the Magisters.

With an effort, she swallowed her distress and became Amika’s Queen again.

“They made me think of Bifalt,” she told Crayn. “I did not expect it. The pain will pass.”

At once, Beatrix Threnody shrank back in her chair. Clearly, she had not expected to distress Estie. Magister Oblique seemed to hold her breath.

After a moment, the Commander nodded. One touch at a time, he tapped on her thighs:

—I am here, Majesty. Speak in my mind, and I will send these women away.

Then he rose to his feet and returned to his post against the wall.

For his sake, Estie said, “Thank you, Commander.” Bracing herself on his presence, she addressed her guests.

“Forgive me, Magisters. Commander Crayn is alert to my moods.” Without pausing, she said, “You mentioned two reasons, librarian. Please give Magister Avail my thanks. I am ready to hear the second now.”

Magister Oblique released a sigh.

—Forgive us, Queen. We have been thoughtless. We can only imagine the difficulties you endure.

Queen Estie shook her head to dismiss apologies. Clinging to her self-control, she put them aside.

“You came to say two things, librarian,” she replied. “What is the second?”

Magister Threnody winced as her companion referred the question to her. She said something inaudible. Magister Oblique nodded. Gathering herself, she resumed tapping.

—I will speak for the librarian now. The words I write will be hers.

Dishonestly, Estie promised, “I am ready.”

While Beatrix Threnody began, Oblique’s touch acquired a new intensity.

—You suggested a way to discover Magister Marrow’s killer. You asked me to search Sirjane Marrow’s memories for anyone who has read certain books. I have done so. I found three names.

For an instant, Estie froze. Then her heart thudded. Lost in herself, she had forgotten—