Zedd smiled just a little to himself as he crumpled the note in his fist. “A bit.” He tapped his lower lip in thought. “Get yourself some rest. If you think the pain of the wounds will keep you from sleeping, I could have one of the healers brew you up some…”

Chase held a hand up. “No! I’ll sleep fine.”

“Very well.” He patted Rachel’s arm and Chase’s shoulder and started off. A thought came to him and he turned back. “Have you ever seen Richard wearing a red coat? A red coat with gold buttons and brocade?”

Chase gave a snort of a laugh. “Richard? Zedd, you half raised him. You should know better than I that Richard doesn’t have a red coat like that. He has a feast-day coat that’s brown. Richard is a woods guide. He favors earth colors. I’ve never even seen him wear a red shirt. Why?”

Zedd ignored the question. “When you see him, tell him I said not to wear a red coat.” He shook a finger at Chase. “Ever! It’s very important, don’t forget. No red coat.”

Chase nodded. “done.” He knew when not to press the old man.

Zedd gave Rachel a smile and a quick hug before starting off down the hall. He wondered idly if he could remember where a dining hall was. It had to be almost past dinnertime.

A thought occurred to him: he didn’t know where he was going. He hadn’t done anything about finding himself a place to sleep. Well, no matter, he thought, the palace had guest rooms. He had told Chase about them. He could go there, too.

He unfolded the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and looked at it. A distinguished man with a neatly trimmed gray beard and dressed in official gold robes was walking past. Zedd snagged him gently.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me where…” He looked at the paper. “Where “West Rim, North Highland Way, Third Tier” is located?”

The bearded man gave a polite bow of his head. “Of course, sir. Those are the healers” quarters. It is not far. Let me guide you partway there, and give you direction for the rest of it.”

Zedd broke into a smile. He suddenly didn’t feel quite so tired. “Thank you. That is very kind of you.”

As Sister Margaret turned the corner at the top of the stone steps, an old maidservant carrying a mop and bucket saw her and fell to her knees. The Sister paused momentarily to touch the top of the old woman’s bowed head.

“The Creator’s blessing on His child.”

The woman looked up, her face wrinkling into a warm, toothless smile. Thanks be to you, Sister, and blessings to you in His work.”

Margaret smiled back and watched as the old woman lugged her heavy bucket on down the hall. Poor woman, she thought, having to work in the middle of the night. But then, here she was herself, up and about in the middle of the night.

The shoulder of her dress pulled uncomfortably. She looked down and saw that in her haste she had misaligned the top three buttons. She redid them before pushing open the heavy oak door out into the darkness.

A pacing guard saw her and came at a run. She held the book over her mouth to hide her yawn. He lurched to a halt.

“Sister! Where’s the Prelate? He’s been yelling for her. Runs shivers up my spine, it does. Where is she?”

Sister Margaret scowled at the guard until he remembered his manners and dropped a quick bow. When he came back up she started off down the rampart with the man at her heels.

“The Prelate does not come simply because the Prophet roars.”

“But he called out for her specifically.”

She stopped and clasped her hand over the one holding the book. “And would you like to be the one to bang on the Prelate’s bedchamber door in the middle of the night and wake her, simply because the Prophet shouts for it?”

His face paled in the moonlight. “No, Sister.”

“It is enough that a Sister must be dragged out of bed for his nonsense.”

“But you don’t know what he’s been saying, Sister. He’s been yelling that…”

“Enough,” she cautioned in a low tone. “Need I remind you that if a word he says ever touches your tongue, you will lose your head?”

His hand went to his throat. “No, Sister. I would never speak a word of it. Except to a Sister.”

“Not even to a Sister. It must never touch your tongue.”

“Forgive me, Sister.” His tone turned apologetic. “It’s just that I’ve never heard him cry out so before. I’ve never heard his voice except to call for a Sister. The things he said alarmed me. I have never heard him speak such things.”

“He has contrived to get his voice through our shields. It has happened before. He manages it sometimes. That is why his guards are sworn on an oath never to repeat anything they should happen to hear. Whatever you heard, you had best forget it before this conversation is over, unless you want us to help you forget.”

He shook his head, too terrified to speak. She didn’t like frightening the man, but they couldn’t have him wagging his tongue over a mug of ale with his fellows. Prophecies were not for the common mind to know. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What is your name?”

“I am Swordsman Kevin Andellmere, Sister.”

“If you will give me your word, Swordsman Andellmere, that you can hold your tongue about whatever you heard, to your grave, I will see about having you reassigned. You are obviously not cut out for this duty.”

He dropped to a knee. “Praise be to you, Sister. I’d rather face a hundred heathens from the wilds than have to hear the voice of the Prophet. You have my oath, on my life.”

“So be it, then. Go back to your post. At the end of your duty, tell the captain of the guards that Sister Margaret ordered you reassigned.” She touched his head. The Creator’s blessing on His child.” Thank you for your kindness, Sister.” She walked on, across the rampart, to the small colonnade at the end, down the winding stairs, and into the torchlit hall before the door to the Prophet’s apartments. Two guards with spears flanked the door. They bowed together.

“I hear the Prophet has been speaking out, through the shield.”

Cold, dark eyes looked back at her. “really? I haven’t heard a thing.” He spoke to the other guard while holding the Sister’s gaze. “You hear anything?”

The other guard leaned his weight on his spear and turned his head as he spat. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Not a thing. Been quiet as a grave.”

That boy upstairs been waggin” his tongue?” the first asked.

“It has been a long time since the Prophet found a way to get anything other than a call for a Sister through our shields. He has never heard the Prophet speak before, that’s all.”

“You want we should make it so’s he don’t hear nothin” again? Or speak it?”

“That won’t be necessary. I have his oath, and have ordered him reassigned.”

“Oath.” The man made a sour face at the word. “An oath is nothin” more than babbled words. A blade’s oath is truer.”

“Really? Am I to assume that your oath of silence is nothing more than “babbled words,” too? Should we see to your silence, then, in a “truer” way?” Sister Margaret held his dark gaze until it at last broke with a downward glance.

“No, Sister. My oath is true enough.”

She nodded. “Has anyone else been about to hear him yelling?”

“No, Sister. As soon as he started in calling for the Prelate, we checked the area, to be sure there were none of the staff, or anyone else, about. When we found everything was clear, I posted guards at all the far entrances and sent for a Sister. He’s never called for the Prelate before, only a Sister. I thought it should be up to a Sister, not me, to decide if the Prelate was to be awakened in the middle of the night.”

“Good thinking.”

“Now that you’re here, Sister, we should be off to check the others.” His expression darkened again. To make sure no one heard anything.”