Simo looked at her as if she had sprouted two heads. “The prince need tell an archon nothing. Nor will she inquire. If I have any further questions about how we mean to proceed, I shall call for you. But the archon is not to be told anything.”

“I understand.”

“I hope you do.” Shaking his head, he finished, “Let His Exalted Highness be settled in such comfort as we can find in this benighted, primitive place.”

“You’ll find the town not as primitive as you expect. The archon prides herself on the many luxuries she has been able to afford.”

The archon profusely greeted the prince and escorted him to the village’s well-appointed hostel, adjacent to its opulently decorated Heart Temple. The lake’s rich stock of freshwater fish had brought prosperity to the village, which traded dried fish all around the uplands as a winter food source. The locals were proud of their hostel. It had three separate courtyards and a special suite of rooms for merchants willing to pay for a private garden and private, heated bath. While the archon and the prince’s escort made a fuss of installing the prince in the suite, Elen took herself off to the annex where she normally slept.

The annex’s tiny courtyard had a tiny fountain with water piped in from the lake, a basin for washing, and a sleeping chamber with a pair of bunk beds and, thank the High Heavens, a good brick hearth.

A familiar woman knelt before the oven, tending the stove. She wore much-mended clothing, and a widow’s cap covered her gray hair. The fabric was dingy and discolored by the dirtiness of her daily chores.

She rose, face creased with a nervous smile. “Deputy Courier, is it true a prince has come?”

“It is. Prince Gevulin, the All-Seeing Eye, Prince of the Third Estate. He has other titles, but I see by your expression you have something urgent to relate, so I’ll not delay. What is it you have to tell me, Charwoman?”

The woman did not answer, except by wringing her hands.

Elen added, “Oflidu, you have my word that whatever you relate to me here stays between us.”

Oflidu sighed. “I know you can keep a secret. Your blessed sister did, may she rest in the glory of the High Heavens. I found something.”

She went silent, too afraid to speak more. After a moment, Elen took her pack into the hostel, fetched out the brush, and went back into the courtyard. She sat down, took off her boots, and began to clean the mud-streaked soles. The sheer ordinariness of the chore and the rhythmic chuff-chuff of the brush released Oflidu’s paralysis.