“If you tell me this person’s name, I may be able to put your mind at ease, or perhaps offer to track the assassin and stop him, before he murders an innocent.”

The minister’s face turned white, but she shook her head. “I can’t. As I said, I’m certain enough.”

Grinsa let out a breath and sat back. “Very well.”

“I should leave,” the minister said. “I’ll be missed in the castle.”

“Of course.”

She stood, but did not move away from the table, her eyes fixed on her cup of wine as if she were searching for something lost.

“Neither of us was very forthcoming, and I apologize for my part in that. But I want you to know, I do accept that we’re allies of sorts and I hope you find your singer eventually.”

“Thank you, Minister. Gods keep you and your duke safe.”

Still she didn’t leave.

“That first morning, when you followed me to this tavern, you made a point of asking the innkeeper about the singer in a way that allowed me to overhear. Why?”

Grinsa shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you what it means to be a gleaner. I saw you walking the streets of Solkara in your ministerial robes. I saw you enter a tavern in the early morning when you should have been enjoying the hospitality of the queen. It seemed clear to me that you were a person I needed to meet.”

She appeared to weigh this. After some time she nodded. Her eyes strayed to Tavis and she seemed to consider saying something. But in the end she merely offered a small smile and walked away.

Tavis and the gleaner remained at their table, silently watching her go. Even after she left the tavern, they didn’t speak, choosing instead to eat their food and drink their wine.

Only when they had left a few silvers on the table and stepped back out into the street did Grinsa say, “Well, it seems there’s no longer anything holding us in Solkara.”

“Are you serious?”

The Qirsi glanced at him. “I expected you’d be relieved.”

“I suppose I am. I’m just surprised.”

“The singer isn’t here, and even if the person Evanthya wants dead is, no assassin would attempt a murder in the royal city, not after all that’s happened.”

“All we need to do is retrieve our things from the inn and buy some food, and we can be on our way.”

He stood scanning the marketplace for a moment, as if trying to decide from which of the peddlers to buy their stores.

An instant later, however, his eyes widened. “Demons and fire!”

“What is it?”

Grinsa started striding away so quickly that Tavis nearly had to run to keep pace with him.

“What is it?” he asked again, his voice rising.

“It’s Shunk.”

“Shurik? Here? Are you certain?”

But the gleaner didn’t answer.

Tavis heard a horse neigh and looking toward the sound, saw a beast rearing, kicking out with its front legs. A thin Qirsi man struggled to calm the animal, but his gaze kept flitting toward Grinsa and Tavis. It took the boy a moment, but he did recognize the man. Kentigern’s first minister, the one who betrayed Aindreas to the duke of Mertesse.

There was terror in the man’s pale eyes, and he looked about the marketplace as if seeking shelter or aid. But nothing could have prepared the young lord for what he did next.

“Guards!” he shouted suddenly, pointing a bony finger at Tavis and the gleaner. “Soldiers of Solkara! That man is an Eibitharian lord, come to kill our queen! Arrest him!”

Grinsa froze in midstride. “This way!” he said, pushing Tavis to the left and leading him through a knot of peddlers, carts, and buyers.

There hadn’t been any guards nearby, and though Tavis could still hear Shurik shouting for help, he saw no uniforms.

“Where are we going?” he asked, struggling to keep up with the tall Qirsi.

“We haven’t time to make it to the sanctuary. But the south gate isn’t far. Perhaps we can make the wood before word spreads to the guards on the city wall.”

They reached the edge of the marketplace, crossed a small lane, and cut across a common plot where sheep and goats huddled together against the cold, chewing the brown grasses. Tavis still heard cries, and an instant later a bell began to toll.

He could see the gate now, an arched opening in the grey wall surrounding the city. But with the sound of the bell, several soldiers had gathered there, swords drawn. A few seconds later, the bell at this gate began to ring as well.

“Damn him!” Grinsa said, stopping and looking around.

The guards at this gate wouldn’t know why the bells were ringing, or for whom they should be looking, but they weren’t likely to allow anyone to leave the city.

“Stay close to me,” the gleaner said. “Take hold of my cloak.”

Almost before the words had left his lips, ghostly white tendrils of mist began to rise from the ground, swirling around them like Bian’s wraiths until Tavis could see nothing of the wall or the soldiers.

Tavis grasped the man’s riding cloak, and the two of them started forward. He could only assume that they were making their way to the gate- the soldiers’ voices were growing louder-but he kept silent and allowed the gleaner to lead him.

Grinsa drew his dagger, and Tavis did the same. Seeing this, the gleaner stopped, leaned close, and whispered, “Only as a last resort. I’d rather get through without them knowing we’ve passed.”

Tavis nodded, and the two of them walked on.

After a few moments, Tavis felt a slight breeze brush past his cheek, stirring the mist, and thinning it for just an instant. They were at the gate. Four soldiers had positioned themselves in the opening, swords drawn, their eyes wide as they attempted to see through the cloud.

“There!” one of them cried, pointing his blade at Grinsa and Tavis.

The wind died away and the mist closed around them again, hiding the men from view. Grinsa whispered a curse. And then Tavis heard a strange sound, or rather, four of them in quick succession. The shattering of steel.

“Hit them low,” Grinsa said quietly, his voice taut.

He rushed forward and Tavis did the same, lowering his shoulder as he did. Suddenly a guard loomed before him, tall and muscular, and far bigger than Tavis. In a fair fight, Tavis wouldn’t have had a chance. But the man was gaping at the useless hilt of his sword. He didn’t even see Tavis until it was too late. The young lord crashed into the man’s chest, driving him to the ground. Tavis stumbled for an instant, but kept his balance and ran. Grinsa was beside him, still drawing mist from the earth, and now summoning a wind that howled like a demon. Tavis felt the air moving past him, but it didn’t slow him. Somehow, the gleaner had managed to raise a gale and then shield the two of them from it.

“That should slow them!” the Qirsi shouted over the roar of his tempest. “Follow me to the wood!”

“Where are we going?”

“Away from Solkara.”

Tavis rolled his eyes. “Of course. But then where?”

Grinsa didn’t hesitate. “North, to Mertesse. I want to be there when Shunk returns.”