Elgart had told him that they had all gone to serve the survival of their own people. But he knew her too well to be mistaken. Twenty years ago, she had taken Elgart from him when he had first entered the Repository. Later, she had warned him that the library had an enemy. And more recently, she had snatched Elgart from Archpriest Makh to save Belleger. Without her intervention—her interference—King Bifalt would never have received the gift of an alliance with the el-Algreb.

Bifalt rode straight to her, dismounted in a flurry of sand. After long hours in the saddle, his legs threatened to drop him. Ignoring his unsteadiness, he peered up at her.

Despite the long years since he had last seen her, she looked as lithe and ready as ever. At first, she seemed unchanged, untouched by time. Then he saw the new lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, the slight toughening of her skin. Her gaze had acquired shadows that suggested uncertainty.

Coughing to clear his lungs, he said hoarsely, “Greetings, Devotee.”

The riflemen nearby stared. The el-Algreb knew her. The King’s men had never seen a woman like her.

Bifalt saw amusement in her eyes, or perhaps scorn. Effortlessly, she dropped to the sand and faced him.

“Greetings, King of Belleger,” she began. “You have made good progress. I expected to find you farther west.”

“Suti al-Suri’s doing,” replied Bifalt. “Not mine.”

She was not a woman who smiled readily, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Turning to the chief warrior, she said, “Greetings, Suti al-Suri. You have done well. I was wiser than I knew when I asked your people to be the King’s allies.”

He replied with an el-Algreb bow, a gesture that he had never given Bifalt. “High praise, most holy,” he murmured. “It humble el-Algreb.”

Behind the King, several of his people sat their mounts with the bodyguards, Elgart and Prince Jaspid. Elgart had the air of a man who wanted to cheer. Jaspid looked disappointed. He may have hoped to greet Lylin rather than Amandis. More riflemen were arriving. Bifalt ignored them all.

He felt strangely daunted in the devotee’s presence. Her sudden coming seemed to demand more of him than he knew how to give.

With an effort, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

She had taken Elgart from him without regard for the effect of his friend’s disappearance.

Amandis faced him again. “A wasted question, King. I am here. That is enough.”

Abruptly, Elgart dismounted, drawing Prince Jaspid with him. Together, they joined Bifalt.

“Perhaps the point of the question, Devotee,” said Elgart mildly, “is to let you show your respect for the man who asks it.”

She frowned at him. “Have you forgotten who I am, Elgart?”