In other ways, the space was entirely unfurnished. Its occupant had done nothing to make it comfortable or home-like. In its severity, it reminded Estie of her father’s private study, a place that did not tolerate weakness.

Like a man expecting visitors, Tak Biondi half sat on the near edge of his table. At first glance, he seemed young; but his face had a middle-aged look of wear, of hard use. He wore a blue tunic and pantaloons, tough boots. They may have been his only garments. If so, he kept them scrupulously clean, but had not mended their frayed cuffs or repaired the cracked leather of the boots. Over his forehead, his black hair hung in an unkempt mess. It resembled Magister Threnody’s, but it did not gleam in the light like hers.

He was smiling, a twist of the lips that made him look habitually sardonic.

Entering, Magister Rummage went at once to stand in the nearest corner. Just for an instant, Queen Estie missed his presence at her side. Then she realized that his post gave him a direct line toward Tak Biondi.

Holding Third Father’s hand, she assumed her most regal posture. For different reasons, she offered her suspect a pleasant smile.

“You are Tak Biondi?”

In response, his mouth moved, saying nothing that she could hear. However, the monk’s translation came promptly.

—And you are Queen Estie of Amika. I saw you the night of Magister Marrow’s death. The whole Repository is aware of you.

After a slight pause, he added:

—Do you know, Queen? Magister Marrow chose me. I thought of him as a friend, almost a father. But I never heard him speak my name until the night of his death. Does that surprise you?

What, never? For an instant, Estie lost track of her intentions. Was it possible that the former librarian had only called his personal servant by name once? Or was Tak Biondi simply toying with her?

With an effort, she collected herself. “It is strange, certainly,” she admitted. “But Magister Marrow was a strange man. He did many things that I would like to understand.”

Through Third Father, Tak Biondi responded:

—For example, Queen? Perhaps I can help you.

“For example,” replied Estie, “I am told that you spent many hours with him. What did you find to talk about?”

This time, her suspect had more to say. The twist of his mouth did not waver. He kept his eyes hidden.

—We spoke of warfare, Queen. He was the librarian, not a soldier. He had read a variety of texts, but he needed more, and he had no time. On his instructions, I read for him. We spent our hours discussing the Repository’s peril. I was—how shall I put this?—a mirror for him. I reflected what he knew. In that way, I showed him what he did not know.