“Her testimony is accepted,” The King’s voice was loud and relieved. “Oren Hunter’s identity has been confirmed.”

            Mirella gave another curtsy, her elbow inadvertently bumping into Oren’s thigh. They both started at the contact. She backed into the crowd while Oren turned, marking her direction. 

            “Oren Hunter will be treated as an honored guest until the puzzle of the Earth Child can be solved,” Ranald motioned for his scepter. “Alston, see that he’s placed in a chamber full of air and light. Fresh rushes and women to attend to his bath.”

            The seneschal stepped forward. The King nodded in Oren’s direction. Oren, taking his cue, followed the seneschal, who in turn was followed by three sturdy women with bristled upper lips, blast his luck. If it was too much to hope that Mirella would be one of his attendants, surely, he could soon engage her in a private conversation. He’d asked Fulcruchen to arrange it, on the pretext that he wanted to question her about the Spring Callings.  Actually, he did want to know what she’d seen and how much she knew, but there were other questions, even if he wasn’t sure how to phrase them yet. 

            Elymas stared at Strout and Root until Strout gave a nod and tapped Root on the arm. They, too, left the chamber, collecting other Red Robes along the way.

            “The feast awaits down the hall. Proceed.” Ranald told the crowd, but when no one moved, he raised his scepter and, in a burst of impatience, threw it down before the throne. It bounced to the edge of the dais, a few loose jewels clattered against the stones below. 

            “Hie to it!” he shouted as the crowd stared in horror.