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Salka island fortress and followed his windtrace. I don’t know who his intended target was, only that the dreamer successfully repelled Beynor’s effort.”
    “God’s Teeth!” Conrig exclaimed. “Could the bastard have been trying to enter my dreams?”
    “Were you aware of any such assault?” Ullanoth asked. When Conrig admitted he could recall no such thing, she smiled. “Then you’re very likely safe. Your talent, meager though it is, would probably have alerted your sleeping mind to any attempt at forcible entry. Were you an untalented person, however, it’s possible he might have invaded you without your being aware of what was happening.”
    “This is a troubling piece of news,” Stergos said. “If Beynor’s target was not the High King, then who might it have been?”
    “I don’t know,” she said. “Dream-invasion is an uncommon talent. Certain members of Moss’s Glaumerie Guild have used it in the past to gather information from the minds of ordinary folk, or as a means of subtly coercing dreamers into some activity. More often than not, the invasion fails of its objective unless the dreamer is predisposed to cooperate, is very young, or has impaired willpower.”
    “Will you continue to oversee Beynor’s footprints on the wind,” Conrig besought her, “and warn us if he attempts some wicked ploy among the residents of Gala Palace? I would deem it a great favor.”
    “You ask the impossible. My surveillance of my brother is sporadic at best because I am so drained of strength. I only undertake it to protect myself and my kingdom from his evil designs.”
    “Then what can we do?” Conrig asked.
    “Nothing except be on guard.” Ullanoth took her cloak from Conrig’s hands and wrapped it about her once again. “It’s time for me to leave you. I dare not let my Sending remain here any longer, for I feel myself growing very weak. Be assured that I’ll notify Vra-Stergos promptly if I should discover anything that you should know.”
    “Thank you for examining the unborn babe, my dearest queen.” Conrig made a formal inclination of his head. “I regret that your pain will be endured to no good outcome.”
    She touched his cheek. “We are with one another so seldom now that I welcome the opportunity to be here—even if it can only be in a brief Sending. Consider a voyage to Moss this summer.
    You can easily contrive an excuse.”
    “It’s a wonderful idea. You’ll be hearing from me.” He bent over her hand again, and a moment later she disappeared.
    Aghast, Stergos whispered, “Surely you would not go to her!”
    Conrig’s smile was grim. “No more than I would dive headlong into the steaming crater of Mornash volcano. But let her have hope.”
    The Royal Alchymist spoke anxiously. “You know what Kilian must be after.”
    “I know. But the Darasilo Trove can’t be easy to get at, else our uncle would have had his minions seize it years ago… or you and Snudge would have located the bloody thing yourselves.”
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    “But—”
    “Brother, we’ll consider the matter tomorrow, when Snudge returns. He knows more about that cache of sigils than anyone else we can trust. For now, I think you and I should carry Risalla to her bed. Then you must bespeak Snudge ordering his return and warn Abbas Noachil to put Kilian and his three cronies into close confinement. Meanwhile, I’ll seek out Earl Marshal Parlian in the gardens and ask his opinion of this fine mess. One thing is certain: I was much mistaken in telling my Royal Intelligencer that this would be a peaceful summer.”
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    May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

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Stergos had given all of the Brothers in the palace permission to set aside their usual duties and enjoy the Solstice entertainments. So he was surprised to find three red-robed figures standing outside the