“Very well.” Etan added water to his third cup of wine, since he was thirsty but did not want his wits to be muddled. “I will give it back to you such as I understand it.” As the afternoon had stretched on, the parade of names and events had become more than slightly dizzying, despite Lord Tiamak’s patient willingness to explain things over and over. “The League of the Scroll was founded by King Ealhstan here in the Hayholt, to protect and increase knowledge. Over the years there have been many members, usually seven at a time, but in recent years the numbers have dwindled.”

“Not so much dwindled,” Tiamak said. “We never fully replaced the original members who died during the war or . . . well, you know what happened to Pryrates.”

Etan nodded. The red priest was not spoken of by Mother Church in any official way, but men of God were quite willing to tell tales in private when they had the chance, and Pryrates was a demon-figure who still horrified and fascinated. “I understand. But Prince Josua was a Scrollbearer! I never knew that.”

“After the tower fell and the war was over, yes,” Tiamak said. “It seemed like an ideal role for someone like Josua, who had an active, useful mind and, while he cared very much about his father’s kingdom, he did not wish to rule it. The sad part is that we had him in the League only a few years before he disappeared.”

“Leaving his children with their mother . . . what was her name? Vorsava?”

“Vorzheva, daughter of a Thrithings clan-leader. Yes, their twin children, Derra and Deornoth. But whether he disappeared and left his wife alone we really don’t know.”

“Because after Josua’s last letters, nobody heard from any of them.”

“Yes, and later I will show you those letters, because they are the starting point for any search. But don’t misunderstand, Brother. The king and queen did not ignore this matter—Josua was the queen’s uncle. He knighted Simon when the king was only a kitchen boy. They both loved him very much.”

“I understand. Now, forgive me if I have the order wrong, my lord, but Duke Isgrimnur and Count Eolair both made trips south to Kwanitupul to search for them. And you went with them.”

“I went with Eolair, which was the first time we searched for them.” Tiamak smiled. “I had not known the count well before. I am grateful we were able to journey together.”

“But you said you found nothing. The inn that Josua owned had been sold, and the new owners said they did not know where the family had gone. Who sold it? Josua or Vorzheva?”

“The money was paid to a dark-haired woman who might have been Vorzheva,” Tiamak replied. “The price was not high, which suggests that, for whatever reason, she did not want to hold out for a better one.”

“So did Vor-shay-vah go back to her home?” Etan asked, pleased that he could finally wrap his mouth around the unfamiliar name. “You said she was from the High Thrithings.”

“She hated the grasslands, and she hated her father, who was a clan-chief. That is all I know for certain. If she did go back, Eolair could find nobody among the Thrithings-folk who knew anything about it. We did not speak to her father, but someone else did on our behalf, and told us he said that if she had come back with Josua’s children, he would have killed them all.”

“Barbarian monster.”

“Yes, but such men are not limited to the grasslands and the swamps of Osten Ard. You may find them everywhere. Even in the Church.”

Etan bridled a bit, but did his best not to be distracted. Lord Tiamak might have his pagan prejudices but he was a good man who meant well. That was all that mattered. “So, no sign of them to be found, and no sign of where they went. And did any of the other Scrollbearers hear anything from him before he vanished? What about the woman in Perdruin?”

“Lady Faiera. We know nothing for certain, because she disappeared at much the same time, or at least stopped answering letters from other Scrollbearers.”

“Could the disappearances be connected?” Etan asked. “I hope I am not being disrespectful, but is it not possible that Prince Josua and this woman . . . well . . .”

“Ran away together? You may ask any question without fear, Brother. I’m glad you asked that one because of course it occurred to us as well. Eolair and I searched for her. Did I not tell you what we found?”

“No. Unless I missed it in all the other names and such.”

Tiamak smiled. “Possibly so, but more likely I forgot. Eolair and I went to Perdruin to seek her out and see what she could tell us, because Josua had mentioned in one of his last letters that he, himself, had questions for her—important questions, he said.” Tiamak shook his head. “Imagine then, when we discovered that not only was she gone, her house had burned.”

“Burned? How? Was she not a noblewoman?”

“By blood, yes, but not by circumstances. She lived in a house in one of the most crowded parts of Perdruin, in a district called the Cauldron down by the docks in the oldest part of the city. Her house was one of a row, the houses as old and tumbledown as the rest of the district. It looks more like Kwanitupul there than it does like Perdruin. Ah, but you have not been to Kwanitupul, either. Well, in any case, a year before we arrived, sometime near Josua’s disappearance, a fire had begun in that row of houses. All those in the middle of the street had been gutted, and several others in adjoining streets had burned as well. Many died, but all that was left behind were charred bones. We do not know if she was there. We do not know if Josua was there.”

“Could that be the end, then? A terrible accident, and the prince and this Lady Faiera killed in a fire?”

“That might be the reason we never saw either of them again, of course. But even so, it does not tell us where Vorzheva went with the children, and that is our true quest.” He patted the monk on the arm. “Where did the children go?”

Etan sat back. He felt quite overwhelmed. “It is a great deal to take in, my lord. Why do you think I will want to undertake such a difficult if not hopeless task, twenty years too late? You said you thought I would agree.”

“Because not only is it an important task to the king and queen—for them it is about loyalty to one’s friends and keeping promises—but it is an opportunity you might never have again. A wonderful opportunity.”

“To look for people twenty years lost?”

The little Wrannaman reached out and squeezed Etan’s hand. “I told you I wanted you to accept this charge of your own free will, Brother, and I meant it. But consider this last, important reason.” Tiamak lowered his voice a little. “You are a man in whom, whether he knows it completely or not, the love of learning runs very deep. What better chance will you ever have to see something of the world than as an envoy of the High Throne, with all the privileges of the position, sent to travel the south in the search for truth? Have you never wanted to see the Sancellan Aedonitis, the seat of your religion? Have you never longed to see the ruins of the ancient cities that once covered the southern islands? And what of Perdruin, whose every breeze is scented with the smell of goods from all over Osten Ard? How could you say no to that opportunity, especially when you know that it would bring you gratitude from the king and queen?”

Etan felt like Saint Sutrin being tempted by the disguised angel. “You make a strong case, my lord. Is it truly up to me to decide?”

“Yes, of course. And if you say you will undertake it, I will give you such letters from Josua as I have. From Lady Faiera, too. You will have knowledge about the League of the Scroll that none but Scrollbearers have possessed. What say you, Brother? Do you need time to think?”

Before he could answer, they heard the clatter of hurrying footsteps in the passageway outside his chambers. Etan looked up in alarm, so surfeited with secrets he half-expected someone to break in and arrest him.