byWhether by mischance or unconscious desire, Frostflower opened the wrong cubicle.
From midmorning until midafternoon she had been bending over an unsatisfying list of the attributes of obscure gods and goddesses. Her muscles were quivering, her vision blurring a little, and the study alcove dark because the day was cloudy. The eighty-four cubicles that held the scrolls were almost as anonymous in their rows as the squares of a huge gameboard set up on edge, and the carven emblems on the small doors all looked much alike to the sorceress. She had memorized the positions of the f*******n compartments; but she thought she was opening the third down and fourth from the right. She had little time left today, especially with a fall of rain or snow likely to begin at any moment—she did not rel
