Gemma cleared her throat. “In fact, I took the liberty of bringing a gift for you, Lady Moirin.” Reaching into the folds of her sleeve, she withdrew a slender wax taper. “If you would care to make the invocation at the Temple of Eisheth here in the city, or to visit the Sanctuary of the Womb, of course, we would be delighted.” Her gaze was soft and gentle. “But it matters only that you invoke Eisheth with a willing heart, wherever you may be, and light a candle to her. This one was wrought of wax gathered from our own beehives, and it carries our blessings.”
I took it from her. The beeswax taper held the warmth of her body, and it smelled sweet and good, holding all the promises of hearth and home.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Eisheth’s priestess inclined her head, her blue eyes glimmering. “When the time is right, you will know.”
A short while later, we took our leave to answer Thierry’s summons. There were a good many people crowded into the Salon of Eisheth’s Harp, peers and comrades and loved ones alike, all anxious to hear the tale told, even those who had lived through it. And we learned that Sister Gemma was not the only member of the royal household to be restored to her position.
“My Lady Moirin, Messire Bao.” Balthasar Shahrizai slung his arms around us both with casual affection. “Pray tell, have you met the new King’s Poet, formerly the old King’s Poet? Of course, Thierry’s not been coronated yet, but that’s only a formality.”
“Moirin.” Lianne Tremaine’s voice was unsteady. Tears shone in her amber eyes. “It seems there’s an epic tale to be told here. I should have found the courage to go with you after all, shouldn’t I?”
I shook my head. “No, my lady poetess. ’Tis better, far better that you did not. He would have killed you, too.”
Her gaze sharpened. “He?”
“Raphael,” I said simply.
“Raphael de Mereliot?” She blinked. “Do you jest?”
“No,” I said. “Not at all, I fear.” Before I could begin to explain, the royal steward called the audience to order, and an attendant came to escort us to be seated in a semicircle of ornate padded chairs facing the crowd. There were shuffling and scraping sounds as everyone else took a seat, and then an expectant hush.
Prince Thierry surveyed the room. “There are many backdrops to this tale,” he began. “One of which bears citing. Although my father did his best to keep the incident quiet, rumors abounded nonetheless. Many of you will remember the scandal surrounding the Circle of Shalomon some seven years gone by.”
Lianne Tremaine paled. “Focalor?” she whispered to me.
I nodded.
“You will note that I have reinstated Mademoiselle Lianne Tremaine to the post from which she was dismissed after that incident,” Thierry continued. “After what I have witnessed, and after the suffering my own youthful ambition engendered, I think it is only fitting that she be forgiven. And I think it is fitting that she among poets be given the task of transcribing this tale. The Circle of Shalomon attempted to summon spirits, fallen spirits, did they not, my lady?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “Yes, your highness. We did.”
“Did you succeed?” he asked her.
“Yes.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “With Lady Moirin’s aid, we did. But she did not give it willingly.”
“I gave it nonetheless,” I murmured.
“I do not seek to cast blame,” Thierry said in a gentle tone. “Only to establish the chain of events. One of these spirits gave each of you a gift, I believe. Can you tell us what form that gift took?”
Lianne lifted one hand unconsciously to rub at her nose. “The spirit Caim taught us the language of ants.”
A faint titter of laughter ran through the salon.
Thierry waited for it to subside. “I would laugh, too, if I knew only the ants of Terre d’Ange,” he said mildly. “And not the black rivers of ravenous death that inhabit the jungles of Terra Nova. But I am getting ahead of the tale. It is also true that one of the fallen spirits, a powerful one, freed himself from your binding and sought to take possession of Raphael de Mereliot, is it not?”
“Yes, your highness,” Lianne said. “Focalor, a Grand Duke of the Fallen.” She glanced sidelong at me. “But Moirin, along with Messire Bao and his mentor, succeeded in banishing him.”
“Not entirely, it seems.” Thierry took a deep breath. “That is the backdrop to the tale I would have you hear today.”
It took