This looks like a job for inadvisably applied magic if ever I saw one. -- Terry Pratchett, Making Money

To explain was easier said than done. How was one to explain something they didn't understand themselves? Varan tried to marshal her thoughts.

"It's all Kiroshnoy's fault," she grumbled, sounding very like a child complaining about another child's bad behaviour. "She did some ridiculous, superstitious ritual and it dragged me here."

This prompted a disbelieving snort from Ngugelzi. "Impossible."

"Not necessarily," Death said. "Continue."

Well, at least someone was willing to listen to her. Varan tried to think of what had happened next. "It happened twice, with two different rituals. The first time was when she wanted to see her grandmother. I could leave after that without any trouble. But this time..."

There was no more to be said. All of them could see the results of this time.

"I don't understand this," Death said wearily. When she said that, it was safe to assume things were truly dire. "You didn't, by any chance, make a bargain with the princess? Something similar to the one I made with Kilan, perhaps?"

Varan shook her head. "Can Reapers make bargains?"

"Technically, yes," Ngugelzi said, biting her lip. "I'd better go and see what's happening back home." She meant the Land of the Dead. "Unless you need me?"

Death shrugged. "I don't think you can do much to help."

Varan felt a sick, gnawing feeling of dread take up residence in her chest.

~~~~

Kilan waited. And waited. And waited. Death didn't come back to say if Varan had been found. Varan herself didn't come to say what had happened or where she'd been.

She's not in any danger, he tried to tell himself. She's already dead. What could hurt her now?

Still, he would have liked to know where she was. When Death had to go and investigate in person, it was safe to assume things were fairly serious.

But he couldn't wait all day for someone to bring him news. He had to meet with Nimetath.

His aunt arrived at the very minute he'd asked her to be there. She brought with her a large folder full of receipts, bank statements, and other such things.

"Your Majesty," she said, bowing perfunctorily. As the Chief Inquisitor, and so one of the highest-ranking people in the palace after the reigning monarch and consort, she was not required to bow every time she met the emperor. "Here is all the evidence I could find against Counsellor Mixiu and twelve other members of the High Council. There's no evidence anyone else is involved. Some other members may well be involved, but I can't find any proof of it."

For the next half hour they pored over the documents. Kilan took a list of the people who had stolen the High Council's money, and another list of people who had helped them do it.

"There'll be an uproar if this gets out," Nimetath said pessimistically. "The common people will endure any number of moral scandals among the upper class. It gives them someone to laugh at and look down on. But financial scandals are an entirely different thing. Kingdoms have been overthrown when the people objected to how their rulers spent their money."

Kilan briefly considered trying to keep the whole thing covered up. There could be no scandal if the details weren't widely known, after all. But he reluctantly dismissed this as unrealistic. People had already heard faint whispers about it. If he tried to hide it, someone would inevitably reveal the truth at some point in the future. And when that happened there would be the additional scandal of a cover-up. Better to get it all out in the open now and let it blow over in time.

"I need thirteen people to appoint to the High Council in the place of the disgraced ones," he said. "Give me a day or two to find them before revealing all this."

Even as he spoke he considered possible options. Perhaps one of Princess Ixerthi's grandchildren, and at least six people from the more discontented provinces. Gialma might have some ideas. Perhaps even Qihadal would. And Death certainly would.

"Very well, your Majesty." Nimetath did not look overly pleased with this idea. "Though, if I may say so, the longer we keep this to ourselves the more gossip there will be."

"But if this is made public before I choose the replacements, the Chief Counsellor will try to select people she wants," Kilan said with a grimace.

Nimetath smothered a smile. It would be beneath her dignity to openly approve of any criticism of a high-ranking official. Inwardly, however, she would enjoy seeing Dilves's plans thwarted. "There'll be an explosion when she hears about this."

True. But now Kilan had a weapon that could silence her once and for all. Every time she complained about something, he could point out that she -- the head of the High Council, who was supposed to keep an eye on the other members precisely to prevent an incident like this -- had spectacularly failed at doing her duty. He might even add a hint that it was time to start looking for another Chief Counsellor. If that didn't shut her up, nothing would.

Nimetath moved on to a different subject. "Now, about that strange letter you received. I've investigated, and I suspect it does come from someone in Nirne. The paper used is a special sort called žetin." She took the letter, wrapped in protective tissue paper, out of her pocket. "You can tell by the thickness of the paper; žetin is made from reeds. It's made in Nirne, especially around the town of Shchuclav, and it's almost impossible to buy anywhere else."

Kilan frowned. "Is there anyone named Margrave Ivakin living in that town?"

"No. The only Margraves in Nirne live in the western dukedoms, and Shchuclav is in the south-east. Nor have I been able to find the slightest reference to a Margrave named Ivakin anywhere in Nirne." Nimetath shook her head. "It appears to have been a forgery, sent by goodness knows who for goodness knows what reason. A practical joke, perhaps."

That seemed to be that.

What an unsatisfying solution, Kilan thought.

~~~~

Really, it's just as well that Kiroshnoy's away on official visits with her parents, Varan thought grimly. Otherwise someone would have come in long before now.

It wasn't pleasant to be stuck in someone else's home. It was even less pleasant when there was no prospect of being able to leave for the foreseeable future.

"There are only two possibilities," Death said with a frown after they had tried and failed several times to break the spell -- or whatever it was that was keeping Varan trapped here. "One, the castle is alive and doesn't want you to leave. I think we can safely rule that out. Sentient buildings are impossible to miss, and even more impossible for people to live in. So we must assume the second one is true: Kiroshnoy is able to manipulate reality."

Very few mortals could do anything of the sort. The ones who could usually reserved it for ensuring crops grew well or for wishing misfortune on their enemies. Their friends called them magicians. Technically there was no such thing as magic; they were simply forcing reality to do what they wanted it to do. A smaller-scale version of what personifications did every day, in other words. Death had never tried to understand how they had this power. It was useless against her, so it was none of her business. No one had ever used it to trap a Reaper before.

"So she has to reverse this," Varan said. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How?"

"It needn't necessarily be her." Death wore the absent, unfocused look she always had when she wasn't seeing things physically but was instead seeing things "as they really are", so to speak.

Death and all her servants had the ability to see the world both with their eyes and, in some way Varan didn't fully understand even as she was able to do it, with their minds. When they looked at something mentally, they could see almost everything about it. Varan had tried to look mentally at Kiroshnoy's room once, when she still half-believed she could escape on her own. All she had seen was a dizzying array of lights and colours, with events that had happened long ago in this room superimposed over its current appearance. The headache she got from that had lasted a full day.

"I can undo this," Death said, her eyes becoming focused again. "With some difficulty."

Varan would have been reassured if she had left off that last phrase. "What difficulty?"

"I can break the bonds holding you here," Death said, waving her hand at the room in general, "but it will be difficult to do that without also breaking the room's structure apart."

~~~~

In the end they managed to break the spell without damaging the room too much. A few tiles falling off the roof and about twenty cracks appearing in one wall did not count as "too much". Varan thought sourly that Kiroshnoy could use her reality warping powers to repair them, if she really wanted to.

"I have never been so glad to leave a place in my life," Varan announced when she -- at long last! -- walked out of the room and into the Land of the Dead.

Death took the time to leave a note for the silly princess.

Never try to meddle with the dead again. I will be most displeased if you do. Sincerely, Death, the End of All Things, Gatherer of Souls.

"You could have left off the titles," Varan said when she heard about this.

Death shrugged. "They might give her a fright. Heaven knows she needs one."

~~~~

"Varan-- some princess-- What?" Kilan couldn't tell if this news was true or a joke. If it was a joke, it had fallen flat. "Can people actually... change reality like that?"

"Very few can," Death said. She sat in the armchair opposite him, the picture of indifference. Kilan wasn't fooled. She had been alarmed when she first heard Varan was missing, whether she pretended not to care now or not. "I don't expect this one will try it again."

Kilan thought about what the last few days must have been like for Varan. He winced. Really, it was a wonder no one had died.

"I need your advice," he said, moving on to the other subject preying on his mind. "Who should I appoint to the High Council? I want to appoint one of Ixerthi's children or grandchildren. Which of them would be suitable?"

Death tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. "Her daughter Zaliyne is the most sensible of Ixerthi's children, but she will die in two years. Of her grandchildren, I'd say either Girinwe or Ivdar would be the best suited to the High Council. You should ask Ixerthi herself. She could give you more information than I can."

True, but he didn't have much time for that. "I have a list of noble families from different provinces. Which families should I consider and which can I take off the list?"

Death looked over the list. "The Awutasun family are engaged in fraud. There's enough of that in the High Council as it is. And the Rirunav family... Well, most of them are fairly decent, but there's always one who's odd. The current Duke's brother insists on wearing full battle armour everywhere he goes."

Kilan couldn't help thinking that might not be a bad idea under some circumstances.

An hour later most of the names had been struck off the list. Kilan now had a much shorter list of families to consider. Surely at least some of them could provide suitable candidates for the High Council.

~~~~

As soon as the rumour began that the Iquisaal was considering remarriage, men all over the empire began to flatter themselves that she might choose them. The usual order of Malishese society was reversed. Now a woman was choosing a spouse, and the men were -- not yet literally, but not far off -- fighting to be chosen.

Zafadin, great-great-grandson of the third-to-last Iqui, saw an opportunity here. He was the youngest of six sons. He had no prospects of a great career or of great wealth. But if he married the Iquisaal...

He would do his best to win Jalakanavu's approval. And if it turned out he didn't get the power and respect he wanted, it would not be for want of trying.