Precious Wind bowed gracefully. “They’re trying to get themselves and the animals settled, Eldest Brother, so we’re the delegation.”
“Thank you, Aalon,” said the abbot. “There are some comfortable chairs in the little room down the corridor, if you don’t mind waiting to take them back. We shouldn’t be long.”
The brother bowed and withdrew as the abbot gestured them toward a group of chairs around a table that bore a dozen little cups and a steaming pot over a candle warmer. “You’ll like this,” the abbot murmured. “Real Jen-tai. Last year’s.” He poured and distributed the cups from a lacquer tray.
Xulai sniffed the steam from the cup. Flowers. And hay. And something like piney woods. She sipped as the others were doing, no one speaking at all. Perhaps it was a Tingawan thing they hadn’t told her of, this silent sipping. More likely it was an abbey thing, for surely over all those forgotten years she had been told everything there was to know about Tingawa!
When his cup was empty, the abbot sighed and turned it upside down on the tray. The others followed his example.
He said, “Now. I need enlightenment. I have received messages from my friend Justinian, but he has never gone into any detail. He has never sent me a messenger or a bird with anything beyond a hint.”
This was not what Justinian had told her! Xulai took a firm grip on her tongue and said, “Details can kill. Messengers can be tortured. Birds can be shot with arrows.”
Both Bear and Precious Wind stared at her in surprise. She returned their stare. She had no idea how to go on except . . . to go on!
The abbot nodded, his face grave. “Well, there is no bowman in this room. I did gather this trouble centered on Altamont. What do we know and what have we heard about Alicia, the Duchess of Altamont?”
He was looking at Precious Wind, but it was Xulai who answered, spontaneously, in the strange, peremptory voice she had used only a few times before.
“I will be happy to tell you what we know about the duchess, if you will tell us what is known about Huold the Fearless.”
The abbot gave her a look of amused surprise, then went to the door, opened it, and called to Brother Aalon. “Call Brother Wordswell, Brother Aalon. It seems we need him.”
“He’s probably in bed, Brother. He spends most of his nights in the library.”
“Well if he is, wake him.”
They sat without speaking, Bear almost visibly steaming, Precious Wind regarding Xulai with a strange expression, half amusement, half concern, while Xulai herself sat suspended, in a kind of mental cobweb, thoughts going off in all directions and ending nowhere in particular. The abbot gave no hint either of discomfort or of what he might be thinking.
A rap came at the door, which opened to admit a very tall, gray, thin brother in wrinkled white robes and a disheveled golden stole, his golden headdress so far atilt it was in imminent danger of sliding down over one ear. He had obviously dressed in a hurry. His furry eyebrows struggled with each other over the bridge of his beaky nose, and his lips were pursed in annoyance. The wrinkles around his mouth indicated the expression was habitual.
“Sit down, Brother Wordswell,” the abbot said invitingly. “Will you have tea? No? Well then, sit comfortably while this young woman tells us a tale and asks you for some information afterward.”
Xulai folded her hands in her lap. “The abbot asks what we know about Alicia, Duchess of Altamont. To speak of her we must first speak of Mirami.
“Falyrion, Duke of Kamfels, had a wife, Naila; a daughter, Genieve; and a son, Falredi. Naila died. Not long thereafter, Falyrion married Mirami, who bore him a daughter, Alicia, and a son, Hulix. Then Falyrion died and Falredi succeeded to the ducal throne of Kamfels. Then Falredi died. Mirami’s son Hulix succeeded him as duke. Mirami left Kamfels to her toddler son, under the care of a steward, and took her daughter, Alicia, to the court of King Gahls on the King’s Highland. It is my understanding that the king calls his court, city, and the surrounding area Ghastain.
“Strangely enough, over the preceding few years, King Gahls had been married three times. All three of his young, healthy, virginal wives died soon after marrying, suddenly, strangely, and childless.
“King Gahls then married Mirami, who very promptly bore him a son, supposed half brother to Mirami’s other children, though likely they are full siblings sired by her chamberlain and constant companion.”
Bear half rose. “Xulai!”
She waved him down imperiously. “Alicia grew up and was given the duchy of Altamont. It was then suggested to Justinian, Duke of Wold, that he should marry Alicia, Duchess of Altamont. He, being already betrothed to a Tingawan daughter of the clan Do-Lok, refused this honor, and his wife-to-be was cursed on their wedding day. She later died strangely and childlessly, and the duchess Alicia is now trying to force a marriage with Justinian.
“One ducal husband and one ducal stepson dead in Kamfels, three royal brides dead in Ghastain, one ducal bride dead in Wold, all dead! And, after all these convenient deaths, one of Mirami’s children is heir to the throne of Ghastain; one is Duke of Kamfels; one is Duchess of Altamont; and all three of the children, Rancitor, Alicia, and Hulix, are evincing considerable interest in Wold and the castle of Woldsgard.
“That is what we know about the duchess and her mother. Oh yes! It is not impossible that Naila, Falyrion’s first wife, was an even earlier target.”
She looked up. Silence. Three pairs of eyes focused on her, three jaws slightly dropped. Brother Wordswell was staring at his hands. “I’m sorry,” she said in an unapologetic tone. “I thought you wanted me to speak.”
“How old are you?” asked the abbot.
“It seems I am about twenty,” Xulai said with a slightly twisted smile.
Bear said disagreeably, “Twenty going on sixty-five.”
“I had been told
