Dulcinia spread her hands is dismay. "Our gold helps them."

"Our gold encourages the women in the city to act irresponsibly, and to bed our young men because it means a life of support without qualifications." Verna swept her free hand around, indicating the city. "We are demeaning these people with our gold. We have rendered them little more than breeding stock."

"But we have used this method for thousands of years to help augment those with the gift we can find. Hardly any with the gift are born anymore."

"I realize that, but we're in the business of teaching people, not breeding them. Our gold reduces them to creatures acting out of want of gold, instead of people having a child out of love,"

Sister Dulcinia was stricken mute for only a moment. "How can we be seen as so heartless as to deny the help of a little of our gold? Lives are more important than gold."

"I've seen the reports; it's hardly a 'little1 amount of gold. But that's beside the point; the point is that we are breeding our Creator's fellow children like livestock, and in so doing, we are breeding contempt for values."

"But we teach our young men values! As the Creator's highest creation, people respond to the teaching of values because they have the intellect to understand its importance."

Verna sighed. "Sister, suppose we preached truthfulness, and at the same time gladly handed out a penny for each lie told. What do you venture would be the result?"

Sister Phoebe covered her mouth as she laughed. "I'd venture we'd soon be penniless."

Sister Dulcinia's blue eyes were ice. "I didn't realize you were so heartless, Prelate, as to let the Creator's newborn children go hungry."

"The Creator gave their mothers breasts so they might suckle their children, not so they could wile gold from the palace."

Sister Dulcinia's face went crimson. "But, men have uncontrollable urges!"

Verna's voice lowered with heat. "The only time a man's urges are truly uncontrollable is when a sorceress casts a glamour. No Sister has cast a glamour spell over any of the women in the city. Need I remind you that were a Sister to do so, she would be lucky to be put out of the palace, if not hanged? As you well know, a glamour is the moral equivalent to rape."

Dulcinia's face had gone white. "I'm not saying — "

Verna glanced to the ceiling in thought. "As I recall, the last time a Sister was caught casting a glamour, was. . what? Fifty years ago?"

Sister Dulcinia's gaze sought refuge but found none. "It was a novice, Prelate, not a Sister."

Verna kept her glare on Dulcinia. "You were on the tribunal, as I also recall." Dulcinia nodded. "And you voted to hang her. A poor young woman who had only been here for a few brief years, and you voted to put her to death."

"It's the law, Prelate," she said without looking up.

"It is the maximum of the law."

"Others voted the same as I."

Verna nodded. "Yes they did. A tie, six-six. Prelate Annalina broke the deadlock by voting to have the young woman banished."

Sister Dulcinia's penetrating blue eyes finally came up. "I still say she was wrong. Valdora vowed undying vengeance. She swore to destroy the Palace of the Prophets. She spat in the Prelate's face and promised someday to kill her."

Verna wrinkled her brow. "I always wondered, Dulcinia, why you were selected to be on the tribunal."

Sister Dulcinia swallowed. "Because I was her instructor."

"Really. Her teacher." Verna clicked her tongue. "Where do you suppose the young woman ever learned to cast a glamour?"

The color returned to Sister Dulcinia's face in a rush. "We were never able to establish that with certitude. Probably her mother. A mother often teaches a young sorceress such things."

"Yes, I've heard that, but I wouldn't know. My mother wasn't gifted; she was a skip. Your mother was gifted, if I recall…"

“Yes, she was. ' Sister Dulcinia kissed her ring finger while whispering a prayer to the Creator, a private act of supplication and devotion done frequently, but rarely in front of others. "It's getting late, Prelate. We don't wish to keep you any longer."

Verna smiled. "Yes, good night, then."

Sister Dulcinia bent in a formal bow. "As you command, Prelate, tomorrow I will see to the matter of the pregnant woman and young wizard, after I clear it with Sister Leoma."

Verna lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? And now Sister Leoma outranks the Prelate, yes?"

"Well, no, Prelate," Sister Dulcinia stammered. "It's just that Sister Leoma likes me to… I just thought you would want me to inform your advisor of your action… so that she would not be caught… unawares."

"Sister Leoma is my advisor, Sister, I will inform her of my actions, if I deem it necessary."

Phoebe's round face tilted from one woman to the other as she silently watched the exchange.

"As you wish, Prelate, it will be done," Sister Dulcinia said. "Please forgive my… enthusiasm, in assisting my Prelate."

Verna shrugged, as best she could with the load of reports. "Of course, Sister. Good night."

Thankfully, they both departed without further argument. Grumbling to herself, Verna lugged the stack of reports into her office and dumped them on her desk beside the ones she had yet to get to. She eyed Millie, off in a corner scrubbing with a rag at a spot no one would ever see were it to be left there for the next hundred years.

The dimly lit office was silent but for the swishing of Millie's rag and her mumbling to herself under her breath. Verna ambled over to the bookcase near where the woman was on her knees working and ran a finger along the volumes without really seeing the gold-leafed titles on the worn spines of the ancient leather covers.

"How are your old bones, tonight, Millie?"

"Oh, don't get me started, Prelate, or I'll soon have your hands all over me trying to heal what can't be healed. Age, you know." Her knee nudged the bucket closer as her hand moved on to scrub at another place on the carpet. "We all get old. The Creator Himself must have intended it, as no mortal can heal it. Though I've had more time than most are granted, working here at the palace, I mean," Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she applied more force to the rag. "Yes, the Creator has blessed me with more years than I know what to do with."

Verna had never seen the sinewy little woman in anything other than a resolute state of movement. Even when she spoke, her rag constantly wiped at dust, or a thumb rubbed at a spot, or a nail picked at a crust of dirt no one else could see.

Verna pulled out a volume and opened it. "Well, I know that Prelate Annalina appreciated having you around all those years."

"Oh, yes, many years, it was. My, my, many years."

"A Prelate, I'm coming to discover, has precious little opportunity for friendship. It was good that she had yours. I'm sure I'll find no less comfort in having you around.

Millie mumbled a curse at a reluctant bit of dirt. "Oh yes, we had many a talk late into the night. My, my, but she was a wonderful woman. Wise, and kind. Why, she would listen to anyone, even old Millie."

Verna smiled as she absently turned a page in the book, a volume on the arcane laws of a long dead kingdom. "It was so good of you to help her, with her ring and the letter, I mean."

Millie looked up, a grin coming to her thin lips. Her hand had actually stopped wiping. "Ah, so you'll be wanting to know about that, like all the others."

Verna snapped the book closed. "Others? What others?"

Millie dunked her rag in the soapy water.”The Sisters — Leoma, Dulcinia, Maren, Philippa, those others. You know them, I'm sure." She licked the end of a finger and rubbed it on the bottom of the dark woodwork, squeaking off a spot. "There might have been a few more, I don't recall. Age, you know. They all came to me after the funeral. Not together, mind you," she said with a chuckle. "You know, each alone, their eyes watching the shadows as they asked the same as you."