“Yes, that is Sul River Street. It swings around south through orchards, fields, and past the brickworks and the furnace. Eventually a side lane turns back north to the Upper Sul Bridge. It is a lovely drive, to be sure, but I would not wish to delay the prince on even the most scenic of detours. If we go that route, we will still be in the lowlands when the sun sets instead of up the ridge and into the hills.”

He did not reply. However, he turned the carriage north. Bystanders crossed arms on chests and bowed as the carriages passed. Faces peered out of windows, and elders and children crowded onto balconies to stare with awestruck expressions at the passing beasts. The silence along Orledder’s normally cheerful and noisy streets fell strange on Elen’s ears, only the scraping rhythm of wheels on stone. It reminded her of her earlier dream. In her childhood, silence was the herald of death. She shuddered, hoping the memory was not an ill omen for the journey.

They reached the central square of the Halt, emptying as people scrambled to get out of the way. No one really wanted to be too close to the palace. As it said in the old poem, “its splendid towers and ramparts best admired from a distance.”

Elen said to Hemerlin, “Take East Ramp. Yes. There! Pray forgive my speaking out of turn, but if you wish for my services as a guide, then I must be allowed to speak without waiting for others to ask me about a route they do not know.”

“You are coarse and arrogant.”

She pressed a hand to her heart in a gesture of heartfelt apology made famous in the play The Wicked Menial’s Revenge. In her soapiest tone, she said, “I am grateful to be honored with this opportunity to serve an exalted prince.”

His hands tightened on the reins as he nudged the panthers to turn onto the ramp. “Do not think there is a place for you in the prince’s retinue, if that is what you are angling for.”

What she was angling for was Kem’s safety. Being a warden wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t at all what she would have chosen for him. He’d have a tough time among Manor-raised people, where his provincial manners and rustic accent would stick out like a sore thumb. But he had to Declare for something. Yesterday, she’d had different hopes for him. Today, keeping him out of Lord Duenn’s hands was all that mattered.

The carriage lumbered up the ramp. Seated up on the carriage, Elen felt no discomfort as they crossed the road, only a slight uneasiness that might have been the viper stirring restlessly or might have been her own anxious anticipation. About two hundred paces ahead, on the lane through the outer district, she spotted a youth wearing the yellow headband of an imperial messenger.