“You honor me.” Uliana was shy and uncertain. She glanced at her father for permission to pick up the token. When he nodded, she took it into her hand as gingerly as if it might burn her.

The theurgist studied this exchange with a keen interest that reminded Elen of a crow examining a trove of shiny objects with a covetous eye. But once the token was picked up, the theurgist did not wait. Accompanied by the last remaining warden, she strode out into the wake of the prince’s entourage.

“Intendant,” Elen said quietly, hoping to catch his attention, but he was already out the door, following the prince with his own modest retinue. Elen tagged along at the end of the line, and, again, no one stopped her. She was relieved the wardens were departing so quickly. The memory of Spore drove her onward. It was just so unbelievably frustrating that she hadn’t yet been able to tell the intendant, and all because of an unwanted imperial visitor who didn’t even have anything useful to offer.

Prince Gevulin moved with such haste that, by the time the intendant reached the assembly plaza, His Highness had already vanished into the carriage pulled by the obsidian panthers. The concubines climbed into the carriage pulled by the golden horses. The menials scrambled to the third carriage as the wardens took their places on drivers’ benches, running boards, and roofs.

A horn blew. Bells clanged. The assembled people bowed as the carriages rolled out of the plaza. Residents and travelers alike had lined the central roadway through the Halt. Many rang handbells as the procession clattered past. The carriages rolled up the northern ramp onto the main road that ran north.

The intendant stood on the portico with his usual attendants. He did not say a word until the last bells had quieted and a final five-fold horn blast signaled that the prince’s party had left the Halt behind. Uliana stood at her father’s side, wringing her hands.

The head chatelaine of the Residence hurried up, looking harried and flushed.

“You may speak,” said the intendant, not waiting for his interlocutor.

“What now, my lord? What’s going to happen when the prince reaches the first avalanche? How can the prince not know the road is impassable? The imperial engineers have been working on the blockage for almost two years!”