reining in their prejudices and rivalries without overt interference from the
palace. Sanctuary-flesh-and-blood Sanctuary-would be quiet when the imperial
delegation made its appearance. The disorganization of magic and the broodings
of Tempus Thales seemed soluble problems by comparison.
“My Lord Torchholder-there you are!”
Prince Kadakithis’s relentlessly cheerful voice dragged the priest from his
reverie.
“You’re a devilish hard man to find sometimes. Lord Torch-holder. No, don’t
stand-I’ll sit beside you.”
“I was just enjoying the sunshine-and the quiet.”
“I can imagine. That’s why I followed you-to get you while you were alone. My
Lord Torchholder-I’m confused.”
Molin cast a final glance at the glimmering harbor and gave his whole attention
to the golden-haired aristocrat squatting in front of him. “I’m at your service,
my prince.”
“Is Roxane dead or alive?”
The young man wasn’t asking easy questions today. “Neither. That is, we would
know if she were dead-a soul such as hers makes quite a splash when it surfaces
in hell. And we would know if she were alive-in any ordinary sense. She has, in
effect, vanished which we think, on the whole, is more likely to mean that she
is alive, rather than dead, but safely hidden somewhere where even Jihan can’t
find her-though such a place is beyond all imagining. She might, I suppose, have
become Niko herself-though Jihan assures us she would know if such a thing had
happened.”
“Ah,” the prince said with an indecisive nod. “And the Stormchildren-nothing
will change with them one way or another until she’s either fully dead or