Sabíana despised high day afternoons. Once a week, it behooved Adonais--or at least the clerics who spoke in his name--to confine all members of the Dar's household to the palace. All anyone wanted was to be outside for as long as possible before the winter, but instead they were ordered to dedicate the half-day to the constant restoration of the Temple holies. Today, a day of deep blue winter-sky and crisp air, Sabíana's sacred work was the restoration of an ancient banner. She tried to remember how many weeks in a row she had slaved over this half-tattered rag. She lost count at seven.
It was a large square banner depicting a Sirin in flight. The style was archaic: flattened and abstract. The woman's head was badly fitted to the body by an almost nonexistent neck; the wings were far too
