Mirnían at Sabíana's right was smirking. Sabíana realized that her mouth was open. She shut it, so suddenly that it echoed.
"Fish-lips," he whispered. Heat flooded her face. She looked at her feet, trying to console herself by imagining ingenious forms of torture Mirnían would never expect.
"We are but visiting today, my children," said Dar Antomír to the serious faces of the men before him. Do not let us deter you."
A young steward of the palace, so inflated with his own importance that Sabíana was afraid he might pop like a bubble of scum on the lake-surface, shouted at the top of his voice, "Dumar may be seated, with the blessing of the Dar. Chosen speakers of Dumar, step forward for counsel."
Assembled Dumar sat, the room echoing with the swish of overcoats and the thud of sheathed
