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the
    throne is set.
     
    “Good day, Nubara” The latest Prophet of Music, Lord of Neserea, and Protector of the Faith of
    the Eternal Melody, fixes his eyes upon his regent “What have you heard about the sorceress?”
     
    “She is said to be visiting the eastern lands of Defalk” Nubara shrugs.
     
    “What might she be doing there?” Rabyn’s voice turns lazy, close to indolent, as he steps onto
    the dais and settles himself into the throne.
     
    “Almost certainly essaying to enlist greater support among the Thirty-three. Possibly visiting
    Lady Gatrune. She did not venture so far as her own holdings on the border.”
     
    “Is it not strange that she has yet to visit her own lands in more than a year?”
     
    “She cannot obtain support from her own lands, and, as your sire had planned, those lands are
    among the more distant from Falcor.” Nubara inclined his head, waiting.
     
    “I would see Eidlon later in the day. We should hear of his progress in assembling and training
    the Prophet’s Lancers.”
     
    “You should, indeed,” answers Nubara smoothly.
     
    “I should. For once they are ready for battle, then Ovecaptain Relour can move his lancers to
    Elioch. They will be in position to counter any schemes of the sorceress.”
     
    "And well away from Esaria, as well.”
     
    “That, too,” agrees Rabyn, smiling. “Today is the day for petitions. Which is the first?”
     
    “The rivermen on the Salya River are asking for a copper more for each passenger from Nesalia
    to Esaria?”
     
    “Boring,” Rabyn nods. “But necessary. And after that?"
     
      “A civil dispute between two cloth factors..."
     
     
     
    5
     
     
    The day will be hot,” ventured Himar from where he rode to Anna’s right.
     
    "Too hot," she agreed, glancing toward the houses ahead, where the town of Pamr began. Under
    a clear sky, the morning air was still and moist, yet the lingering dampness of the road was the
    only sign of the previous night’s rain. To her left, Rickel nodded, but his eyes, like those of
    Lejun, studied the road and the fields that flanked it—and the houses they neared.
     
    “Zechis won’t be that long a ride—late mid-afternoon, eighth or ninth glass,” suggested the
    overcaptain.
     
    “Tomorrow is the long ride,” she replied, readjusting the floppy brown hat, “but the sooner we
    get back to Falcor the happier everyone will be.” Anna frowned as a motion from the house they
    approached caught her eye. Had someone closed a shutter? A door? She turned her head, but the
    first house remained silent.
     
    At the back of the third house Anna passed, a gray-haired woman stood bent over a washtub,
    shielded from the already strong sun by a sagging porch. As the sound of horses reached her, she
    straightened. Then she stiffened, but made no other move as the column passed her and
    continued toward the center of Pamr.
     
    Anna’s eyes narrowed, and she concentrated on studying each dwelling or shop they neared,
    wondering if she should uncase the lutar. In your own land? In a town held by your strongest
    supporter?
     
    A bearded man peered out of the open window of what looked to be a cabinetry shop, then
    jerked his head inside as he caught sight of Anna. Firis was right, she decided, more than right,
    but there was little she could do about mere chilliness toward the Regency, especially when she
    could only speculate about the cause. The chandler? Her killing of the man who had tried to
    assault and kill her hadn’t raised any coldness the year before.
     
    Anna took a deep breath. She needed to know more, but she still didn’t know enough to use her
    scrying glass to find it out. The problem with asking questions was always that you needed to
    know a good part of the answer before you could frame a decent question.
     
    At the junction of the road from the north with the unnamed main street of Pamr, Anna turned
    Farinelli right—toward the bridge over the Chean River that lay more