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man lit up like a favored nephew. “They say Giorgio Mindanelli is one of the best and brightest in the College of Cardinals; hardly succeeded to the red but four years ago!”
    “Does ‘best’ and ‘brightest’ also mean ‘most likely to spot a sorcerer’?”
    “Cardinal Mindanelli has escaped becoming a toad and diverse other animals more than any man I’ve ever known.”

IX
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    When Giorgio Cardinal Mindanelli arrived at the estate reported to belong to Antonio de la Rosa, he didn’t find Signore de la Rosa…or a god, or a Thessalonian maiden…or much of anyone else.
    “Just a band of Travellers,” Peter, the cardinal’s chief assistant reported after he and the others had conducted a thorough search of the property.
    “Travellers?” Cardinal Mindanelli repeated. “Owning property?” But even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. The house was half torn apart and there were no fences or anything that indicated property lines. This band was simply passing through…and had probably looted the estate.
    “No, Your Eminence,” Peter replied. “I spoke to the band’s leader, a woman who called herself Gayle. She said that the property owners left days ago and gave them everything we see in a rather complex trade. She said they’re tearing down the house to build her a bigger vardo , so that she can give hers to her daughter, who is getting married next month.”
    “And does this Gayle have any proof of sale?”
    “No, Your Eminence. It was a complex trade , as I said. But she does have some sort of trade agreement signed by Signore de la Rosa, entitling her to everything she claims.”
    “We’ll have to have a talk with the bishop,” the cardinal decided. “I don’t like the sound of this Gayle.
    “Tell the others to ready the carriage. There is no sense counting the Travellers on our list. Chances are, they’ll be gone tomorrow…and they began defying Our Lord the day they were born.”
     
     
    ~*~
     
     
    While Cardinal Mindanelli was searching their former homestead, Amihan and his bride-to-be were settling into their new home in Austria. This estate was close to Vienna and quite a bit more grand than the last, causing Krystállina trouble when it came to filling her part.
    “Why are we living so close to the city? If Your father has spies out to ensure that You perform Your filial duty, won’t we be more easily discovered in Vienna?”
    “You have never heard of hiding in plain sight, I take it?” Amihan stopped surveying the parlo r furniture long enough to look at his fiancée. “If Léi Shēng suspects I am hiding, he will send his people to every small town and tiny hamlet he would expect me to hide in. The last place he would expect is a grand estate in the heart of the Holy Roman E mpire!”
    “And what about the Viennese? Won’t they give us away? They’ll surely know we’re from abroad!”
    “We came from abroad with a good reason.” Amihan smiled. He locked eyes with Krystállina for a moment, then the air shimmered and a gray-eyed gentleman with light brown hair was standing before her.
    “I am Andrew Bestwick, Duke of Hartford,” the gentleman announced in what she suspected was English-accented Greek. “I found an exotic bride and decided that I had no ties to the courts of England, so we settled here; in the most refined empire in all of Europe.”
    “And I’m your ‘exotic bride’?”
    He nodded. “You were baptized as ‘Catherine’ shortly before we married and now that you have mastered English, you are slowly learning French and German—as befits the wife of a nobleman.”
    “But I don’t speak English!” Krystállina protested. “And we’re not married!”
    “That can be arranged.”

X
     
     
     
    October 1225
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    “Are we even in Austria anymore?”
    “That I do not know,” Amihan replied. He held a