“And if we’re asked for?” Dhulyn Wolfshead did not stop packing to ask.

“Zelianora has told them you’ve gone after the murderers of the Tarkin,” Dal said. “She’s said that he told you enough to set you on the trail with his dying words.” He entered the room far enough to shut the door behind him. “There is good comes of this, if we are careful. Tek deposed and dead was one thing, the Houses were willing for Lok-iKol to be Tarkin rather than begin a civil war. But Tek assassinated is another. Anyone who steps forward to claim the Carnelian Throne will be suspect. The Penradoso is speaking against a Ballot, and calling for Bet-oTeb to be declared Tarkin, with an appropriate Guardian, of course, and many of the other Houses are listening.”

“Enough?”

Dal shrugged. “It will be easier for Zelianora to ask for the Guardianship herself if…” Dal stopped, his unspoken words hanging in the air.

“If she’s seen to have acted decisively in sending us after the assassins,” Dhulyn Wolfshead finished for him. He nodded to her, clearly relieved that she understood. “These youngsters have yet to pack. Meanwhile we can saddle the horses-”

“You misunderstood me,” Dal said. “There were those who wished to question you themselves, and Zelianora has told them you have already gone. You will not ride out of the front gates now without making her a liar, and raising the very questions we wish to avoid.” Dal shrugged. “I can have your horses, and even your saddlebags sent after you to the Tenebro summerhome outside of Gotterang.” He turned to Parno Lionsmane. “You remember?”

When Lionsmane nodded, Wolfshead turned to Mar and Gun.

“Go, you two, quick as you can and meet back here. Small packs only, Mar, but leave nothing you cannot afford to lose. Be sure to bring the bowl.” Dhulyn Wolfshead fastened the last buckle on the straps of her saddlebag.

“And speaking of that.” Dal had been carrying a small case made of time-darkened wood with a brass handle set into the lid. “I’ve brought the vera tiles for you, Dhulyn Wolfshead. They seemed to work at least somewhat…”

“I’ll see they come back to you safely.”

“Keep them. I can have a new set made.” Dal looked at Gun, and then at Mar herself as if he would say something in particular to them, but finally he bowed and left them.

As Mar was pulling the door shut behind them, she heard Dhulyn Wolfshead say, “I wonder. Can the Shadow enter the Racha?”

“I hope neither of you are afraid of heights.” Dhulyn looked with approval at the packs Mar and Gun were carrying. The little Dove’s bag was much the same style-if better quality-as the one she’d had on the trail, but without winter clothing, it was less than half the size. Parno was tying their packs to a climbing rope, light but strong, taking care that they would hang true, without twisting or binding. “Boots off, my Doves, put them into the front of your harness.”

“I thought we’d go through the old kitchens,” Gundaron said, handing his pack over at Parno’s gesture and sitting down to get at his boots.

“We’d have to pass through too much of the Dome to get there,” Parno told him. “We’re supposed to be gone already, remember.”

“We little thought we’d be taking you with us this way, my Doves,” Dhulyn said, looking out the window of their bedroom. “But it’s not so difficult. If you don’t look down.”

She looked with longing at her saddlebags. Everything she couldn’t do without-including the set of vera tiles-had been transferred to a travel pack, but uncomfortable wouldn’t begin to describe their journey if, by ill luck, they lost the bags. And there was her second-best sword, to say nothing of the axes and the longbow. She gave a mental shrug, put her most cheerful smile on her lips. Either Dal-eLad would get them their horses and saddlebags, or he wouldn’t. No point in giving the youngsters anything more to worry them. Under her breath, she ticked off a list of weapons. Knives-in boots, wrist sheaths, back sheath under her shirt and the public one at her belt-with short sword, throwing star pouch, and disassembled crossbow, all attached to vest harness, and tied down so as not to snag on anything or tangle the ropes. Parno had, in addition to his own body weapons and sword, the cavalry recurve bow that came apart into three pieces, and the arrows they’d brought back from the Great King’s court, steel arrows that unscrewed, patterned after relics of the Caids. Everything else was either too heavy or too long to take by this route. She’d just have to hope that Dal came through for them. She turned her back on the pile of books and scrolls stacked neatly on the room’s side table. If she didn’t look, she wouldn’t think about them. Much.

Her inventory finished, she helped Parno move the roped packs to the window.

“I’ll get these up now,” he said. “And come back to help with the youngsters.” He was out the window and up the wall in a moment, trailing the rope with the packs attached behind him. Dhulyn knew he’d reached the roof when the rope grew taut, and she eased the packs over the windowsill, watching them rise as Parno pulled them up.

She turned back into the room and smiled when she saw Mar and Gun eyeing herself, and the window, in disbelief.

“If you’re ready,” she said, attaching ropes to the front and rear of Gun’s and Mar’s harnesses, until they were strung out, herself to Gundaron, Gundaron to Mar. “The ledge is wider than it looks. Follow me out, then Parno will lead us all.”

As if hearing his cue, Parno swung himself back into the room and, seeing they were ready, linked himself to Mar with the rope he’d used to haul up the packs. He looked up with a nod as he finished checking the knot.

“Ready?” Instead of just stepping out onto the ledge as she would have done if she were alone, Dhulyn sat on the edge of the window casement, swung her legs out, turned to face into the room, and, gripping the edge of the casement tightly, lowered her legs until her toes felt the ledge.

“You see?” she said. “Just like that. I’ll be out here to steady you.”

Gundaron followed her out, trying his best to ape her actions exactly. He had a shaky moment when his toe couldn’t find the ledge, but once Dhulyn had guided his foot down, he managed well enough.

“Move over here, Gun, and mind the ropes,” she said, allowing him to pass between her and the wall. “Let Mar out.”

Anyone would have thought that Mar had been climbing out of fifth-story windows all her life-as, indeed she may have been, for all Dhulyn knew to the contrary. The little Dove slid out of the window onto the ledge and over next to Gun without hesitation or sign of nerves. Parno followed her out, drew the casements shut behind him and, using a bit of wire tied onto the end of a string, pulled the latch over as he did so. From the inside, at least, there’d be no sign that they’d left via the windows.

“Eyes on me,” Parno said. His tone was even and calm, the same tone, Dhulyn thought, that he’d used to coach Mar in table etiquette when they were on their way to Gotterang. “Watch where I put my hands and feet, and you put yours the same. Don’t start up until you see me wave at you. I’ll be anchored, so you can’t fall, but be careful all the same.”

As Dhulyn knew from her own reconnaissance, there were no windows directly above theirs, so Parno could climb straight up until he’d cleared the two stories above them, and reached the battlements at the top of the tower. These were decorative only, intended to match the style of an older tower, with no place for guards or archers to stand behind them, Dhulyn knew, only the shallow-pitched peaked roof of the tower itself. Parno swung himself over the edge of the stone, and after a few moments, they could see his hand waving.

“Up you get, children, fingers and toes now.” Dhulyn had tested the route herself only the day before, and knew that there were many finger- and toeholds in the rough stone wall, and more than a few places where the whole foot could be placed to take the weight off the hands.