“If there is such a thing, I will release the prince and descend into the Pall. In a living Pall, I may hope to find the answers I seek about those you call the sorcerer-kings—if they remain dead, or have somehow returned to life and become a wicked enemy to vanquish yet again. I might even find one of my Shorn compatriots, should any survive. Yet having touched this Pall, and hearing about the Desolation, I wonder if any living Pall survives.”

“Far Boundary Pall is a living Pall, if by that you mean a place with tides and currents.”

“How can you know this? Is that what the surveyors say?”

She had never admitted this before to another living being, except Ao, who already knew. “I crossed it.”

He tilted his head, the gesture almost birdlike. “Did you, now? My wardens tell me Far Boundary Pall is at the northern edge of the world. Nothing lies beyond it except, eventually, an ocean. And salt ocean is more of a barrier to the Pall than a witch road.”

“Yes, that is why the message Captain Cweles read made Xilsi say it was ridiculous.”

“It was not ridiculous?”

“There is a far land lying beyond Far Boundary Pall. Twenty years ago, its southern quarter was ruled by a lady-king. She might still be alive. And at that time, her heir was her daughter.”

“You know this, how?”

It was the secret she and Ao had kept most carefully, fearing what would happen if the truth became known. Yet she’d told the haunt her childhood name. He’d told her more about his past and his true mission. Most importantly, the prince would never know. It was time to let go of the fear.

“It’s where Ao and I came from originally, years ago. We were children when we escaped. Not that we knew what we were doing, mind you. It seems neither the wardens nor the surveyors know there is an entire country beyond Far Boundary Pall. But apparently Prince Gevulin does. Because why else would he have received that message from Captain Mekvo and immediately set out, in such a rush, to race north to get to Far Boundary Vigil. While meanwhile ordering Mekvo to keep the mysterious man in isolation so no one else could talk to him until Prince Gevulin got there. How does he know? Why does he know? What does it mean?”

“Put like that, it is a curious puzzle. Although it answers the question of what Prince Gevulin’s mission is, if it is to interview, or silence, the messenger.” The haunt rubbed his forehead as if he really did have a headache. “I don’t understand how the wardens don’t know. They’re the ones with the map.”