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slightest. “No one will know?”
    “No one will know. Your reputation is safe with me. Are you ready for the next task?”  
    Jon took a big swig of wine, emptying the chalice. He then signaled for Yates to continue.
    “The second task involves your brother. When did you last hear from him?”  
    “I have not heard anything since he sailed away with Ravien.” Something about Jon’s voice sounded sad. “I do not even know where he is. Ravien kept their destination secret, probably someplace with a white-sanded beach where they will celebrate their marriage.”
    “You are probably right.” Yates filled Jon’s chalice again. He had asked Petra to pick one of the Cathedral’s finest reds from the cellar.  
    “A couple days ago,” Jon said, “I met with a Sunan merchant. My brother and I had traded with him before. The man had expected to see Wren, and he had no news about him. I suppose they are far off in the Aerith Sea now. We will not learn more until they show up in Valemidas again.”
    Yates would have to inquire further about this Sunan merchant. He suspected it was Cid, the same man he had met. But he needed to press further with Jon.  
    “I think Wren and Ravien will return in a way that you do not expect.” Yates had pieced together enough of Ravien’s plan, despite her attempts to keep it hidden. “They will be with the Sunan fleet.”
    “What?” Jon demanded. “How could that be?”
    “I cannot say right now, but my guess is they will be prisoners of the Sunan leader, one way or another. This will be a hard thing for you. When they arrive, and when you first see Wren, you must restrain yourself. Do not go to him, do not welcome him, do not even smile in his direction, unless he has already arrived within our walls safely.”
    “None of this makes sense,” Jon said with confusion. “What games are you playing, Father?”
    “This is not a game, and I am sorry that I cannot say more. Here is what I can say:   you can save your brother, and can very well save our city and our prince, if you perform this task. It will make more sense in light of the final task. Come, I want to show you something.”
    Yates stood and Jon followed him into his office, to the window overlooking the city.
    “You know by now of the Sunans’ plan to invade?”
    “Yes, Father,” Jon answered.
    “I believe that, if pride and mistrust prevail, our city will be destroyed and a new prince will sit in that palace.” Yates gazed out the window at the palace’s thin towers. They loomed like daggers in the moonlight. “We may also have another traitor in our midst. I am still puzzling out who it is, but we can overcome these threats. If we humbly engage the Sunan proposals and we do not let the thirst for war drive us, there is a way to save thousands of lives and win the war. My fear is that the advisors around Andor, the ones who cram his waking hours with duties, they are filling his mind with hawkish appetites for conquest. Some say we can rout the Sunans and sail out to seize their lands.”  
    The priest turned to Jon. The man was so young, like a valiant knight from a fairytale. His straight hair looked almost silver. Yates was pinning many hopes on this man. “The voice of a priest is drowned out in times of war,” he said. “I need you to be my voice to Andor. I will have other messages, but this first one is the most important. You must plant an idea in Andor’s mind, without anyone else knowing of it. All you have to do, whenever the moment is right, is tell him what this note says, as close to its words as you can.”  
    Yates pulled a rolled note from his robe and pressed it into Jon’s hand. “You must say the message as if it were your own, with no hint that it is from me.”  
    “I do not understand,” Jon said. “Why can you not deliver the message yourself, or through someone else?”
    “I cannot go to Andor, not yet,” Yates answered. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you my reasons, but