Exactly. Han was relying on the Southies sleeping in. At least it seemed less likely he’d run afoul of them at this time of day.

You never used to go out of your way to avoid trouble, he thought. You used to go looking for it.

“Tell you what,” Jemson said, displaying his usual persistence, “sit in on class, and afterward Mari can stay with the speakers in the library while you go about your business. We’ll give her supper, if need be.” He paused, then couldn’t resist adding, “You will be careful, won’t you? For Mari’s sake, if not your own?”

“I’m always careful,” Han said, glancing at Mari. “And I guess I can stay a little while.” It wasn’t like he’d outgrown the temple school. There were boys older than him in the class.

“Excellent. Spectacular, in fact.” Jemson put on his teacher face and turned to the rest of the class. “Yesterday we discussed the events leading up to the Breaking. Today we’ll talk about some of the people involved. Who can name one of them?”

“Well, there was Queen Hanalea,” one small girl ventured.

“Good work, Hannah!” Jemson said, as if she’d just demonstrated how to change dung into gold. “There was Queen Hanalea, for whom we thank the Maker every day.”

He turned one of the easels to reveal a painting Han recognized immediately as Hanalea Blessing the Children. In it, the legendary queen looked to be thirteen or fourteen. She was seated at a harp, dressed all in white, like a dedicate, her glittering hair gathered into a loose plait, her complexion creamy pink, like rose porcelain. She looked like one of those fancy dolls in the shop windows along the Way of the Queens. The ones Mari pined for and would never have.

In the painting, Hanalea extended her hands toward a group of younger children, smiling benevolently, the glow from her skin illuminating their rapt upturned faces.

“This is Hanalea as a young girl, before the terrible events that we’ve—”

“Excuse me, Speaker Jemson,” Han said. “The painter—was that someone who knew Hanalea?”

Jemson blinked at him, caught midsentence. “Say again?”

“When was that painted?” Han asked. “Was it painted from life or is it just somebody’s idea of what Hanalea looked like?”

Jemson grinned. “Master Alister, we have missed your presence in these classes. This was painted by Cedwyn Mallyson in the New Year 505. What does that tell us?”

A serious-looking boy in threadbare clothes and a clark’s collar said, “It was painted more than five hundred years after the Breaking. So the painter couldn’t have known her.”

“So it’s possible she looked entirely different?” Han said.

Jemson nodded. “It is possible. What are the implications of that?”