a comfortable silent place. This was, he thought ironically, the closest thing to true prayer he'd experienced since coming to the monastery.
'Fine. I'll see him,' said Silverdun. 'But I reserve the right to ignore everything he says.'
'Excellent,' said Estiane. 'I'm glad you feel that way, since I already invited him. He'll be here tomorrow.'
Silverdun glared at the abbot. 'You really are a bastard, you know.'
Estiane's smile returned. 'I believe you've got some garderobes to clean, Novice. I suggest you get started now, or else you'll have to spend all of midday prayer smelling like a latrine.'
The next day was windy as well as cold, and the rain came even stronger. Autumn had settled over the monastery and seemed intent on making its presence known. Thus, Tebrit gleefully assigned Silverdun to the gardens, where he dutifully, if angrily, weeded the cabbage. After an hour his back ached, he was covered in mud up to his shins, and he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers. He tried to stir up a bit of witchfire from time to time, but on each occasion the wind rose up and immediately extinguished it-Aba was watching, it seemed, and wanted to make sure that Tebrit's punishments were exacted in full.
The Temple Aba-Nylae stood on a wooded hill just outside the walls of the City Emerald, so there was no protection from the Inland Sea wind that blew over the hill, leaving the grounds wet and cold even when the sun was shining brightly in the city.
Silverdun was down on his knees, yanking away at a recalcitrant root, when he heard a familiar voice boom from across the yard.
'By Auberon's hairy ass! Is this Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun, or a rude villein?' The voice then broke out into laughter.
Silverdun looked up and saw Edwin Sural, Lord Everess, standing beneath the cloister loggia, beaming and waving.
'Well, come in out of the rain, Silverdun!' goaded Everess. 'I didn't come all this way to watch you play peasant.'
Silverdun stood slowly, spitting out rainwater. His hair was soaked through, lying in thick tangles around his neck. His novice's robes, likewise, were drenched, and his hands and feet were thick with mud. He closed his eyes for a long moment before beginning the long squelching trudge across the garden.
'I must say, Perrin Alt,' chuckled Everess, once Silverdun was within easy speaking distance. 'I do not think the religious life agrees with you.'
Silverdun had never much liked Everess, who enjoyed his taunts a bit too much for Silverdun's taste. 'One gets used to it,' he said. Whatever witty rejoinder he might normally have come up with was drenched as surely as his witchfires.
'By her teeth, Silverdun! It's true what I've heard-you are changed!'
Silverdun automatically touched his face. He could feel the nose, once straight and patrician, now angled with a slight bump. The cheekbones were lower now as well, and the chin not quite so prominent. He had angered the wrong woman, and she had taken her revenge on his appearance. Faella, the young mestine, who for some reason he could not get out of his mind. Queen Titania had told him that Faella was special, that she possessed the so-called Thirteenth Gift, the Gift of Change. He had a feeling that Titania had not told him this merely as a point of information.
'It's the country air,' said Silverdun. 'It does wonders for the complexion.'
'Oh, come in out of the wet and stop sputtering inanities. We've important business to discuss.' Everess waved Silverdun toward the calefactory, for which Silverdun was inwardly grateful. The warming-room was the only space in the entire monastery in which a fire was allowed to be lit at all times.
They stepped into the calefactory and almost immediately Silverdun's wet robes began to steam. There was a washbasin filled with hot water in one corner of the room, and before Silverdun could even begin to acknowledge Everess again, he washed his face and hands and feet in the basin, wincing with pleasure as the feeling returned to his extremities with sharp needles of pain.
The calefactory was empty other than the two of them, which was remarkable for this time of day-it was a rest period, and on a cold afternoon one could expect to find easily half the monks of the abbey clustered here, playing cards, drinking the watered-down swill they called wine, or just sitting idly. The fact that it was empty told Silverdun that Estiane had gone out of his way to ensure that the meeting between him and Everess was a private one.
Once Silverdun felt himself to be sufficiently presentable, he sat down at the long table by the fireplace, where Everess was already seated. Everess had his pipe out and was carefully stoking it.
'I'm pleased that you agreed to see me, Perrin,' Everess began warmly, all trace of banter put aside. 'What I have to speak with you about is a matter of great importance.'
'I see,' said Silverdun. 'Though I should tell you that I did not, in fact,
