“How long has this been here? Has it ever been moved?” Elan asked.

“Not in my lifetime, Highest,” Shirrad said.

If it truly was an artifact from right after the War, the era when it had been decided to hide the Well, then it really might hold a clue. But if he had the mosaic removed from the wall so he could study it more closely, Desinn would definitely hear about it. Elan would have to explain himself, and at best, Desinn would scoff at his quest to find the Well. More likely, he’d spin it into a tale that would make Elan look worse to his father, attempting to solidify his own influence with the Highest. Elan couldn’t afford to appear any worse in his father’s eyes.

Finally he said, “Lady, we haven’t discussed this much, but when Aredann is abandoned…” She winced but didn’t say anything, so he pressed on. “When we leave, we won’t want to leave anything this valuable behind. Can this be taken down from the wall? Cleaned and prepared to move?”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her lip trembling; then she took a deep breath and said, “Of course, Highest.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”

“Only a little,” Shirrad said. “The garden—well, it’s not as large as it looks up there. The courtyard just isn’t that big.”

“The courtyard?” he asked. “This is that garden?”

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Lady Shirrad said. “But before the drought, the garden was a wonder to behold—or at least, that’s what my father told me.”

“You’re sure it’s the same garden?”

“Yes, Highest,” Lady Shirrad snapped. Elan glanced at her again, surprised by the bitterness in her voice, but she recovered herself quickly and gave him a cheerful, obviously false, smile. “That’s the fountain. It’s still there. It seems to have been built by mages, just like the house.”

“So it can’t have been moved since the War,” Elan realized. “Then—then I need to go look at it.”

Lady Shirrad’s pleasant, polite smile didn’t waver this time. “Of course, Lord Elan. I don’t think we’ll be able to move that anywhere, though, when you leave Aredann.”

She led him to the courtyard, and he tried to memorize the way as they walked. The house at Aredann wasn’t nearly as large as the ones the mages had built around the enormous reservoirs where he’d grown up, but he still needed to learn which corridors connected to which wings. The sitting room they’d left was central enough that he’d gotten turned around and didn’t know which way led toward the garden.

When he stepped into the courtyard, he realized that it was a little silly to examine the fountain now after all. It was dark out, and though the moon was bright enough, everything was shadowed. It would be easy to miss details.

The fountain itself was impossible to miss, though. It towered over everything, silver-white in the moonlight, bright enough that it was almost a light in and of itself—bright enough that his eye caught on something at its base.

“Lady—Lady, look!” He crossed to it, crouched down, and caught his breath.

Lady Shirrad joined him, her eyes widening in surprise. A single flower, bright purple and delicate, was growing at the fountain’s base. There was no grass around it, nothing but sand and stones. Elan put his fingers to the ground, and they came back dry and dirty, not damp. But this flower was just like the one in the mosaic—and it was alive, which was impossible. It needed water to grow, and he hadn’t noticed it the previous night, when he’d first glanced around the miserable little courtyard.

“The Closest,” he said. “The one who tends the grounds—Jae. I need to speak to her immediately.”

Once again, Jae woke to Tal shaking her. The room was only lit by a torch, which threw strange shadows that distorted Tal’s features, deepening his frown into something frightening.

“You’re awake,” he finally said, and let out a deep breath. “I was starting to worry.”

“Everything still hurts,” she said, answering his unspoken questions. She squinted at the dim light, then screwed her eyes shut. Even that was too much. Her head ached from the effort of looking at Tal. She tried to roll over, away from him, but her whole body seized, throbbing, and she fell back on the mat, eyes squeezed shut as tears formed. “I don’t…don’t understand,” she mumbled, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. “I didn’t disobey or…I don’t know what I did.”

“You must have done something,” he said, and reached for her hands. “Because Lord Elan just summoned you. He sent Lady Shirrad herself, but she found me first. But it’s definitely you he asked for.”

Now her eyes flew open and she stared at him in horror. “He…But I didn’t…”

“He’s waiting for you in the garden, and he wanted you to hurry. I wanted to explain that you’re ill, but…”

But Lady Shirrad wouldn’t have asked, so Tal couldn’t have said anything—and even if he had managed to speak, it wasn’t as if anyone would care that Jae could barely move. Jae grimaced and nodded. That set her head spinning, and it got worse when Tal hauled her up to sit, as if someone were smashing her head with a stone, over and over—but at least that was familiar. She had an order to obey, and the Curse had no pity for traitors. It didn’t matter that she’d had some kind of fainting spell, or whatever it was that had knocked her flat. She didn’t even know what had happened, could only remember a flash of shining stone and the moon, and fleeting, muddled images of faces and flowers. Whatever she’d dreamed was fading as she woke.

At least the focused pain of the Curse in her head seemed to ease the pressure on the rest of her. As Tal guided her to her feet, she felt as if she were a grape left in the sun too long, withered and dry.

Her legs were unsteady under her, and she had to lean on Tal as they walked. Some of the ache started to ease as she moved, as if she’d simply been in one position too long and her muscles needed to unclench. It also helped her head, since she was doing her best to obey the summons, and that calmed the Curse.

Lord Elan stood waiting in the garden. The moon was high overhead now, bright silver, and the stars were sprinkled across the sky like sand waiting to be swept away. He stood in front of the fountain, and Jae had to squint to see him at all. It was as if the moon had set the fountain on fire and it was throwing silver flames all over the courtyard. Everything looked strange, unfamiliar, as if she hadn’t spent every day of the last year in this very spot.