“No,” Dorna agreed, “but you ain’t ever going to stay at home and raise the foals while your stallion mate goes off to war, and that’s a fact.” Dorna wagged a finger at Kihrin. “Something for you to remember.”

“Oh, not a problem,” Kihrin said, raising his hands. “As an old friend used to say, I only become romantically involved with those who can beat the pants off me in a fight.”

Ninavis turned to Janel. “This one might be okay.”

“Oh, thank you. Now that I have a stamp of approval from the grandmothers—” Janel rolled her eyes at Dorna and Ninavis before she turned to Qown. “It’s your turn.”

Qown cleared his throat and began to read.

Qown’s Turn. Atrine, Jorat, Quur.

Brother Qown felt lost by the time they reached the apartment granted to the Count of Tolamer and family. The city’s twisting passages and switchbacks formed a maze that confused anyone not familiar with the turns.

Plus, no one used the roads.

People never traveled down to the ground level unless absolutely necessary. These occasions included entering the city through the main gates or crossing over to the Green—the giant parklike space in the city’s center. Otherwise, everyone used the stairs, climbing the spiraling steps until they reached the bridges and thoroughfares on the third story (which would be the fourth story if anyone counted the ground level). These constituted Atrine’s true roads.

Count Janel stopped before a wooden door, identical to all the other wooden doors they had passed. While Dorna paused to light an old brass lamp, Janel pulled an ancient-looking key from her sallí cloak and unlocked the door.

She waited.

No one cried out. No one came to the door. No movement echoed from inside.

Janel opened the door and ushered everyone inside. They passed a reception hall and sitting area, the kitchen on the right, before heading down a main staircase.

Brother Qown bumped his shin on a low side table as soon as he left the stairwell. He fought the temptation to curse. Mare Dorna raised the lantern, illuminating spacious rooms. Brother Qown felt a small thrill to think the Theranon family had used these quarters for almost half a millennium, in an unbroken line since Atrine’s creation by Emperor Kandor himself.

Count Janel stood there and scanned the lower hall as if trying to determine if there had been intruders by studying patterns left in the dust. But finally, she shrugged and walked over to the built-in wardrobes along one wall of the main sitting room—delicate stone doors cut with patterned grilles. She opened each in turn, rummaged around, and then piled boxes before the cabinets.

“I’ll look downstairs soon as I’m done here.” Dorna started lighting the lanterns in the room.

Sir Baramon sat on a low stone bench. “This brings back memories.”