Klamath’s eyebrows went up. “No.” Elgart’s way with secrets had been one of his most annoying traits. He had spoken of things that Klamath would have preferred not to hear, and had kept private things that would have interested Klamath keenly. “That I did not know.”

How had Elgart become friends with a minor Magister of earthquake? And why had Elgart chosen him?

Abruptly, Pillion changed his mind. “No, General. I must begin yet again. You have no interest in my family and friends. You want to know why I am here. Will you answer a question?”

For the third time, Klamath said, “Of course, Magister.”

At once, his companion rushed to ask, “I have heard a rumor. There is a priest among the servants in the bay. Is it true?”

The General was surprised again—but not by the rumor. Teams of riflemen, servants, and messengers traveled to the bay and back in shifts. Rumors were inevitable. That Pillion had heard them, however, or that he cared enough to seek confirmation from General Klamath: that was a surprise.

Did Pillion worship in the Church? Had he come to consult with a servant of the Great God Rile?

Perhaps. Still, Klamath saw no harm in answering. “It is,” he admitted. “He is Father Skurn. For reasons of his own, he volunteered to work as a servant in the bay.”

Abruptly, the Magister’s meekness left him. “I know him.” Muffled by snow, his voice held a note of ferocity. “I must see him.”

On his guard now, the General countered bluntly, “Why?”

“For Elgart!” cried Pillion.

Inside himself, Klamath took a step back. There was more at stake here than he had guessed: the man’s vehemence made that obvious. He was outraged by what had happened to Elgart.

Magister Pillion had to be handled with care.

“Perhaps, Magister,” said Klamath equably, “it would be well to start yet again. You and Elgart were friends. Do you believe Father Skurn had a hand in his disappearance? His death?”

“Yes!” snapped Pillion. Then, more quietly, he contradicted himself. “No. Perhaps. I do not know.” After a pause, he added, “But I can imagine it. Those priests are evil.”

Distantly, as if he were alone in the snow, he explained, “Elgart took me with him once when he went to the Church. He wanted to speak with the Archpriest. And he wanted to know whatever I could tell him about the sorcery of those priests.

“The Archpriest was elsewhere. Elgart met with Father Skurn. I was his witness. Now he is gone.

“There is no sorcery in Father Skurn. I am certain. Yet he can draw on it. I am certain of that as well. I felt its presence. And I saw him impose a kind of drowsiness on Elgart, a half-waking sleep.

“As for me—”