“Indeed, but how did it come to you? What is it to Murinde?”
Lady Aia sighed and bowed her head a little. She ran her gloved fingers along the scroll case then looked up at Galdtchav.
He frowned: it was unnerving to be stared at so intently by someone with no face.
“I will tell you more than was ready,” she said. “More truth, perhaps more hope.” She beckoned Tyr and Azhur and they came forward, both them and Galdtchav sitting to hear the tale. “The scroll is sent to me through four centuries,” began Lady Aia. “Always it is given to the first daughters of the Neguenda, the family that rules. Only once has its seal been broken.”
“Why has Murinde sent it to the north?” asked Azhur. “Surely, there are many risks?”
“Murinde does not know.” She spread out one hand. “Not this many know why I
